LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
DAVIS 


>! 


BY  EARTHQUAKE 
AND  FIRE 

or 

THE  CHECKERED  ROMANCE 
of  TWO  GENERATIONS 


BRUNT'S,  SAN  FRANCISCO 
MCMXIV 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CAIJFOBNIA 


Copyright,  1914  by  M.  L.  Theiss-Whaley. 


THE  BRUNT  PRESS,  SAN  FRANCISCO,  U.  S.  A. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PART  ONE 


Chapter 


I.    AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  AND  ITS 
BEGINNINGS — HOMEWARD  BOUND 


"  'One  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  one's  friends,  like 
one's  wine,  any  number  of  years  in  the  cellar,  only 
to  find  it  a  little  crusted  at  last  but  better  in  flavor 
than  ever.'  " 


II.    THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED — THE  TRIP  TO 
THE  LAKE 


"When  Clayton  Nichols  and  Harold  Gardiner  un 
expectedly  swung  aboard  of  their  still  moving  train 
as  it  rolled  into  the  Denver  depot,  they  found  a  very 
merry  party  of  travelers  to  welcome." 

III.    THE  TRAIL — A  PROPOSAL 

"  'I  know  that  when  love  does  awaken  in  your 
heart  that  you  will  be  aware  of  it,  and  that  it  cannot 
help  but  be  for  me/  " 


IV.     JACK  LINDSAY. 


"  'This    is    my    Brother    Jack,    who    has    been    just 
dying  to  meet  you.'  " 


V.    A  MORNING  GAME 1 

"'Well,  'twas  a  glorious  victory'!  declared  Jack, 
coming  quickly  up  the  field  to  shake  hands  with  his 
opponents." 


VI.     GERTRUDE   WARFIELD 


"She  inspired  love  as  naturally  as  the  thirsting 
Earth  draws  to  itself  showers  of  refreshment  from 
the  moisture-laden  clouds." 

VII.      A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  AND  ITS  ENDING 

"'You  little  witch'!  he  exclaimed,  straining  her  to 
his  bosom,  while  he  rained  kisses  upon  lip  and 
cheek  and  brow." 


Chapter 

VIII.     A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING 


"But  only  the  proud  sister  knew  *  *  *  that 
every  stroke  of  the  pencil,  every  touch  of  the  brush, 
had  been  an  outpouring  of  undying  love." 


IX.    THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON 

"  'Did  you  see  that  wink'?  he  asked,  with  mock 
seriousness.  *  *  *  'Another  Summer  troth; 
by  Jingo'!" 


X.    RENUNCIATION 


"  'You  will  not  refuse  me  somewhat  of  a  lover's 
privilege  for  this  once,  I  am  sure,'  he  pleaded;  im 
mediately  clasping  the  girl  in  a  fond  embrace  and 
tenderly  kissing  away  the  tears  that  blinded  her 
eyes." 


XL     DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING. 


"'You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you've  been  loving 
me  ever  since  then,  Will'?" 


XII.    Two  WEDDINGS 

"Since  the  world  began,  the  Sun  had  never  shone 
upon  two  handsomer  or  happier  brides." 


PART  TWO 

I.     GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD — Two  ORPHANS 

"For  'tis  the  living,  not  the  dead, 
Who  feel   Death's   biting   sting." 

II.     GERALD  HARDING 

"Too  many  cooks  will  spoil  the  broth;  and  Gerald 
had  been  spoiled;  lamentably  spoiled." 

III.     YOUTHFUL  LOVERS 


"  'Why  we've  always  loved  each  other.  At  least, 
I  have  you;  and  you  have  me,  too;  haven't  you, 
sweetheart'?" 


Chapter 

IV.     GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL. 


"  'I  have  to  confess  to  an  extravagant  fondness 
for  the  witching  little  beauty,  myself.'  " 

V.  A  CRUEL  PLOT — RELUCTANT  GOODBYES 

"  'Well,  all  I  can  do  is  to  hope  for  the  best;  Georgie's 
good  name   must   be   preserved  at  any  cost,   if  pos 
sible.'  " 

"  'And  you  won't  forget  me,  dearest'?" 

VI.    A  TRIP  ABROAD — LOVE  versus  DUTY 

"'Then  I  can't  do  it,  Auntie'!  exclaimed  the  tor 
tured  girl,  bursting  into  tears.  'For  just  the  mere 
thought  of  Rob's  loving  any  one  else  makes  me 
turn  O,  so  sick  and  faint'!" 

VII.     A  MARRIAGE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES 

"'No,  mother,  she  has  lied  to  me;  played  me  false; 
made  me  forever  a  laughing-stock  among  my  fel 
lows;  and  I  want  never  to  hear  her  hated  name 
again/  " 

VIII.    THREE  HAPPENINGS 


'"Great  Scott,  Sis,  she's  fainted!  Let's  get  her  out 
of  here  quick'!" 

IX.    THE  MILLS  OF  GOD — TRANSFERRED  AFFEC 
TIONS  -. 

"  'Because  judgment  against  an  evil  work  is  not 
speedily  pronounced,  therefore  the  hearts  of  the 
sons  of  men  are  fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil.'  " 

X.    ROBERT  MANNING'S  TRANSGRESSIONS 

"Strength  of  will  in  proportion  to  physical 
strength  seemed  strangely  so  lacking  in  him  at  this 
time,  that  Ichabod  might  most  fittingly  have  been 
inscribed  over  the  gateway  to  his  young  manhood." 

XL      NON    COMPOS    MENTIS 

t  "For  to  the  dead  mind  of  the  living:  mother  he  was 

but  as  a  stranger." 


Chapter 

XII.     EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"During1  those  more  than  fifty  awful  seconds, 
*  *  *  the  astounded  man  *  *  *  lay  limp,  mo 
tionless,  breathless;  hushed,  as  it  were,  by  the  sense 
of  an  awesome  Presence,  whose  commanding:  'Be 
still!  and  know  that  I  am  God'!  he  divined  rather 
than  heard." 

"  'The  city  is  burning;  and  there  is  no  water!  We 
are  doomed!  We  are  doomed!'  they  cried,  with  ashen 
faces." 

XIII.  REFUGEES — A  VICTIM — A  CONFESSION 

"So  the  little  family  *  *  *  was  obliged  to  join 
the  vast  army  of  refugees  *  *  *  and  become 
pensioners  of  the  world's  unstinted  bounty." 

"  'Both  iv  'er  legs  is  bruk, — savin'  yer  prisince — 
and  sumthin'  inside,  too,  the  docther  thinks.'  " 

"  'I  literally  tortured  my  sweet,  young  charge  into 
compliance  with  mV  wish.'  " 

XIV.  MINISTERING   ANGELS — A    BELATED    BE 

TROTHAL  ..         


"  'As  usual  he  was  in  with  the  first  load.'  " 
"  'Mrs.  Harding  came  out  at  the  first  news  of  the 

disaster,   to   look   for  you  and  help   in   the   work  of 

nursing.'  " 

"  'Aren't  you  very  glad  to  see  me,  Margaret'?" 


L! envoi     SWEET  ALICE. 


"When  sweet  Alice  was  soon  after  brought  to 
him  there  was  but  little  to  be  said,  even  had  not 
emotion  prevented," 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 


The  four  great  essentials  of  entertain 
ing  fiction,  viz. :  human  interest,  unity, 
action  and  climax,  mark  the  pages  of  this 
book.  There  are  no  tedious  stretches, 
descriptions  having  been  reduced  to  the 
most  condensed  form  compatible  with 
lucidity  and  finish,  and  in  order  to  a 
clear  understanding,'  sympathetic  appre 
ciation  and  intelligent  appraisement  of 
its  characters  and  happenings,  every  word 
of  the  story  should  be  attentively  read. 
This  favor  the  author  craves  of  the 
reader. 


BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

THE  CHECKERED  ROMANCE  of  TWO 
GENERATIONS 


PART  ONE 


CHAPTER  I. 

AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  AND  ITS  BEGINNINGS — 
HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

"  'One  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  one's  friends, 
like  one's  wine,  any  number  of  years  in  the  cellar, 
only  to  find  it  a  little  crusted  at  last  but  better 
in  flavor  than  ever.'  " 

Among  the  crowd  of  people  thronging  the  station 
platform  at  Poughkeepsie,  New  York,  one  late  June 
day  in  the  year  eighteen-seventy-eight,  (the  twenty- 
third  of  the  month,  to  be  very  definite)  the  central 
group  was  made  up  of  ten  or  a  dozen  laughing,  chat 
tering  girls,  with  such  healthy,  happy,  intelligent  faces 
and  lady-like  manners,  as  to  reflect  naught  but  credit 
upon  the  alma  mater  whose  senior  class  pin  each  of 
them  wore. 

As  the  last  warning  note  of  the  conductor's  "A-l-1 
a-b-o-a-r-d"  died  away,  two  of  the  number  hastily 
tore  themselves  from  the  reluctant  leavetakings  of  the 
rest,  and  joining  the  station  porter  who  stood  awaiting 


10  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

them,  satchels  in  hand,  at  a  respectful  distance,  stepped 
aboard  the  train  and  followed  him  into  the  particular 
Pullman  in  which  a  drawing-room  had  been  reserved 
for  them.  While  the  taller  of  the  girls  took  from  her 
purse  and  handed  over  the  customary  tip,  the  other 
raised  curtain  and  window ;  and  as  they  slowly  steamed 
away,  two  dainty  bits  of  lace  waved  a  last  good-bye 
to  the  bevy  of  sweet  girl  graduates  left  behind. 

Following  their  example,  let  us  also,  bid  these  adieu ; 
wishing  them  with  all  our  hearts,  bon  voyage  over 
life's  tempestuous  sea,  and  turn  our  attention  to  be 
coming  acquainted  with  our  two  fellow  travellers; 
from  one  of  whom,  at  least,  we  shall  not  again  part, 
until  we  must  needs  bid  her  a  final  farewell;  until  the 
Great  Reaper  shall  have  thrust  in  His  sickle  and 
gathered  her  unto  His  eternal  harvest. 

Freshmen  at  Vassar  four  years  before  our  story 
opens,  they  had  registered  as  Margaret  L.  Armstrong, 
Denver,  Colorado,  and  Gertrude  C.  Warfield,  Omaha, 
Nebraska.  Western  girls,  we  see,  both  of  them;  and 
though  we  had  not  been  told  we  should  have  strongly 
suspected  it,  for  in  the  bearing  of  each — although  in 
somewhat  varying  degree — was  seen  that  blending  of 
frank,  fearless  independence  with  feminine  modesty, 
that  lends  such  a  charm  and  that  we  of  the  East  seldom 
fail  to  recognize  and  admire  in  every  well  born  daugh 
ter  of  the  West. 

Nearly  of  an  age,  but  a  few  months  out  of  their 
teens,  and  becomingly  dressed  in  the  prevailing  mode 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  11 

in  rich  though  quiet  costumes,  they  would  have 
attracted  more  than  a  passing  glance  anywhere,  for 
unusually  handsome  girls  both  were,  though  of  the 
most  pronounced  contrast  in  type. 

Descended  upon  her  mother's  side  from  high  bred 
colonial  dames,  in  Margaret  Armstrong's  veins  there 
ran  also  a  strain  of  Irish  blood,  whose  purity  was  at 
least  partially  responsible,  no  doubt,  for  her  very  dig 
nified,  almost  proud  carriage,  the  richness  of  her  com 
plexion,  her  full,  clear,  dark  blue  eyes,  shaded  by  long 
and  heavy  silken  lashes  so  dark  as  to  make  one  in 
doubt,  oftentimes,  as  to  whether  the  eyes  which  they 
veiled  were  not  after  all  black  rather  than  blue,  features 
good  and  sufficiently  delicate,  the  mouth  alone  being  a 
trifle  large  for  perfect  symmetry,  perhaps,  but  with 
rosy  lips  parting  in  such  a  winning  smile  and  revealing 
a  set  of  such  perfect  teeth,  that  one  felt  as  though 
Nature  would  have  made  a  grave  mistake  had  she 
concealed  any  more  of  them  from  view.  An  abund 
ance  of  glossy,  dark  brown  hair,  rippling  in  loose 
waves  about  a  broad,  intellectual  forehead,  completed 
a  picture  good  indeed  to  look  upon;  and  being  some 
what  taller  than  the  average,  well  developed  and  beau 
tiful  of  form,  the  girl's  appearance  was  certainly  such 
as  our  French  cousins  designate,  distingue. 

Her  companion — of  medium  height  and  slight 
though  pleasingly  rounded  figure — was  the  very  em 
bodiment  of  grace  and  daintiness.  Softly  curling 
golden  hair  here  framed  a  face  of  rare  loveliness  of 


12  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

expression,  with  features  patrician  in  their  modelling, 
and  whose  unblemished  complexion  was  the  pink  and 
white  velvet  of  the  perfect  blonde.  Back  of  the  coral 
lips  of  a  sensitive,  little  mouth  which  seemed  as 
though  made  only  to  be  kissed,  gleamed  even,  pearly 
teeth,  while  the  nose  above,  with  its  little  more  than 
shadowy  suggestion  of  tilt,  lent  a  ravishing  air  of  co 
quetry  to  her  otherwise  most  demure  face.  The  ears 
were  perfectly  shaped  and  dainty  as  sea  shells.  The 
eyes — large,  wistful,  expressive,  dark — with  their  deli 
cately  arched  brows  and  snowy  curtains  fringed  with 
golden  brown,  reminded  one  of  an  April  day  with  its 
alternate  sunshine  and  shadow;  being  veritable  win 
dows  of  the  soul;  involuntarily  dancing  with  joy  at  the 
pleasures,  or  melting  in  sympathy  for  the  sorrows  of 
those  around  her.  In  fact,  if  one  wished  to  make 
special  mention  of  the  most  beautiful  feature  of  this 
wondrously  beautiful  face,  it  would  be  of  the  eyes, 
which  were  a  true  index  to  her  very  lovable  and  loving 
nature.  If  any  more  evidence  were  needed,  a  small, 
well  shaped,  well  poised  head  and  an  aristocratic  man 
ner,  told  of  the  gentle  Southern  ancestry  whence  she 
had  sprung,  and  through  whom  had  descended  to  her 
not  alone  her  rare  personal  beauty  and  charm,  but 
also  those  exquisite  graces  of  heart  and  mind  with 
which  she  was  most  lavishly  endowed. 

Now  these  two  young  girls — our  heroines — the  one 
an  idolized  only  child  of  a  widowed  mother  of  culture 
and  means,  the  other  completely  orphaned,  heiress  to 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  13 

a  modest  fortune  and  pitifully  alone  in  the  world, 
arriving  at  their  chosen  college  simultaneously  and 
being  mutually  drawn  to  each  other  at  their  first  meet 
ing,  had  elected  to  share  a  suite — parlour  and  bed 
rooms — in  one  of  the  residence  halls  upon  the  campus. 
Which  arrangement  continuing  throughout  the  course 
had  proven  a  blessing  to  both,  since  their  com 
bined  natures,  diverse,  yet  thoroughly  congenial, 
formed  a  most  harmonious  whole ;  and  the  mutual  con- 
siderateness  shown  during  the  early  days  of  that  un 
broken  and  most  intimate  companionship,  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  extraordinarily  deep  and  lasting 
friendship  which  grew  up  between  the  two. 

Vassar  was  at  that  time  as  it  still  is,  one  of  our  very 
best  American  schools  for  girls ;  its  aim  being  to  train 
and  develop  the  physical,  mental,  moral  and  spiritual 
natures  of  its  pupils  in  equal  proportion,  and  thus  to 
turn  them  out  with  well  rounded  characters.  Their 
health  was  most  carefully  looked  after  in  every  respect, 
the  particular  kind  of  physical  training  being  called  for 
in  each  case  being  ordered  and  a  certain  amount  of  in 
vigorating  exercise  required  daily.  Ample  croquet 
grounds  and  a  beautiful,  gracefully  willow-fringed 
lake,  upon  which  to  boat  in  Summer  and  skate  in  Win 
ter,  provided  abundance  of  outdoor  sport,  while  for 
indoors  there  was  a  well  equipped  gymnasium  and  a 
bowling  alley.  The  several  hundred  acres  of  carefully 
laid  out  and  beautifully  kept  grounds,  the  velvety 
lawns,  the  shady  walks  and  nooks,  the  commodious 


14  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

and  artistic  buildings,  all  combined  to  make  it  a  very 
attractive  place. 

In  the  cultivation  of  pronounced  talents,  during  their 
junior  and  senior  years,  Margaret  had  taken  vocal 
music,  Gertrude  painting,  as  their  extra  studies,  other 
wise  their  tasks  had  been  the  same;  and  although  it 
had  required  hard  work  to  keep  up  with  the  very  high 
standards  of  the  college  and  discipline  had  been  strict, 
yet  a  sufficient  amount  of  relaxation  and  pleasure  had 
been  found  in  the  social  life  among  the  students.  The 
several  special  "Days,"  with  their  entertainments  and 
functions,  attendance  upon  the  meetings  of  one  or 
more  of  the  various  clubs — literary,  scientific  or  social 
— the  time  spent  in  chapel,  library,  museum,  labora 
tories,  conservatory,  art  gallery,  etc.,  had  filled  all  the 
leisure  moments  and  made  the  time  pass  quickly,  even 
enjoyably;  and  now,  when  we  meet  our  young  friends 
for  the  first  time, — 
Schooldays  are  passed,  their  onerous  tasks  completed; 

Schoolbooks  discarded  with  reliev-ed  sighs. 
Life's  whirling  register  now  waits  their  signing; 

Eagerly  they  enroll  to  struggle  for  the  prize. 
For  ready,  they  are  now  anxious  to  enter  this  larger 
school ;  whose  list  of  needed  supplies  calls  for  only  an 
account  book,  and  where  there  is  but  one  teacher, 
Experience.  They  have  mastered  all  of  the  common 
and  many  of  the  higher  branches  of  learning ;  can  con 
verse  fluently  and  intelligently  in  more  than  their 
mother  tongue,  about  Art  and  Science  and  Literature ; 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  15 

can  draw  and  paint,  compose  and  sing,  and  have  their 
pretty  heads  full  of  isms  and  ologies  and  osophies. 
With  the  splendid  assurance  and  confidence  of  youth, 
they  feel  themselves  well  able  to  grapple  with  all  its 
most  abstruse  problems.  Yet  their  hard  earned  diplo 
mas  entitle  them  to  entrance  only  into  the  Kinder 
garten  of  this  school.  Deal  gently  with  them,  O,  stern 
teacher !  Make  not  their  tasks  too  hard,  or  the  punish 
ment  for  possible  mistakes  too  severe.  When  they 
leave  thy  walls  for  the  Great  University  beyond,  may 
it  be  with  as  good  reports  as  Vassar  sends  them  to 
thee;  and  may  the  harder  and  deeper  lessons  which 
thou  hast  taught  them,  have  left  their  faces  no  less 
peaceful,  aye,  smiling,  than  we  see  them  today. 

During  these  student  days,  Gertrude  had  spent  all 
her  vacations,  Summer  and  Winter,  with  Margaret. 
Mrs.  Armstrong  had  been  a  real  mother  to  the  parent- 
less  girl,  and  she  had  long  since  accepted  her  invita 
tion  to  reside  with  them  after  graduation;  the  two 
were  now  therefore  en  route  for  Denver  and  home, 
where  a  loving  welcome  awaited  them  both. 

The  day  was  warm  even  for  the  month ;  so  after  the 
manner  of  experienced  travellers,  they  proceeded  to 
make  themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible  for  the 
long  ride  before  them.  Mentally  tired  from  the  strain 
of  the  closing  examinations  and  the  excitement  of 
Commencement  week,  they  were  not  in  their  usual 
chatty  mood,  so  were  soon  buried  in  magazine  and 
book. 


16  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

At  length,  Gertrude,  with  a  half  suppressed  sigh, 
laid  hers  aside,  and  turning  to  the  open  window  sat 
for  a  long  time  looking  out  upon  the  constantly  chang 
ing  landscape,  apparently  lost  in  deepest  meditation; 
but  when  Margaret,  some  later,  turned  to  address  a 
question  to  her,  she  was  amazed  to  see  one  tear  and 
then  another  roll  slowly  down  the  face  of  her  com 
panion. 

"What!  Little  Sunbeam  in  tears?"  burst  out 
the  girl  in  anxious  wonderment — using  the  pet  name 
her  sunny  disposition  had  gained  for  Gertrude  at 
college — "Why,  what's  the  matter,  girlie?  Are  you 
sick?  Aren't  you  glad  we're  going  home?"  she  ques 
tioned  hurriedly.  And  without  waiting  for  a  reply, 
leaned  over,  and  slipping  an  arm  tenderly  about  the 
neck  of  her  vis-a-vis,  drew  the  troubled  face  nearer 
and  affectionately  kissed  her. 

"Don't,  Margaret";  pleaded  the  other  gently,  with 
an  unsuccessful  attempt  at  a  smile.  "Leave  me  to  my 
self  for  a  while,  please;  I'll  be  all  right  again  soon." 
And  pressing  her  friend's  hand  gratefully,  the  girl 
drew  back  and  once  more  fixed  her  gaze  upon  the 
swiftly  passing  scenery. 

A  few  moments — during  which  the  puzzled  Marga 
ret  tried  vainly  to  account  to  herself  for  this  most  un 
common  exhibition  upon  her  friend's  part — and  she 
had  recovered  herself;  and  turning  to  her  companion 
a  tear-stained  but  triumphant  face  said:  "Margaret, 
dear,  I'm  really  ashamed  to  tell  you  of  the  selfish 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  17 

thoughts  that  caused  those  recent  tears,  although  I 
know  they  are  forgiven  even  before  confessed." 

"Whatever  they  were,  Gertie,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that,  and  I  cannot  yet  believe  that  they  would  answer 
to  any  one's  description  of  selfish  but  your  own,  usual, 
exaggerated  one ;  so  'fess  up'  and  relieve  me." 

"I've  never  had  any  one  but  you  to  love,  Margaret," 
now  began  the  affectionate  girl  in  a  lowered  tone, 
while  taking  her  friend's  hand  lovingly  between  her 
own,  "and  you  know  how  I  worship  you;  and  having 
had  you  all  to  myself  for  so  long,  it  has  been  making 
me  very  unhappy  to  think  of  giving  you  up  to,  or  even 
sharing  you  with,  Aunt  Nellie, — Mrs.  Armstrong — as 
I  shall  have  to  do  hereafter.  But  please  don't  tell  her 
that  I've  ever  harbored  such  horribly  selfish,  ungrate 
ful  thoughts.  I  wouldn't  have  her  know  it  for  worlds 
after  all  her  many  loving  kindnesses  to  me;  and  be 
sides,  they're  dead  now,  and  will  never  come  forth  to 
haunt  or  trouble  us  again ;  not  even  their  ghosts.  But 
O,  Margaret,"  she  concluded,  with  an  irrepressible 
sadness,  "you  can  have  no  idea  how  desolate  a  girl 
feels,  when  she  remembers  now  and  again  that  she 
belongs  to  nobody,  and  nobody  belongs  to  her." 

"I  presume  not,  Gertie,"  admitted  the  other,  "and 
it's  all  the  harder  for  me  to  understand  your  feeling 
that  way,  because  Mamma  and  I  have  both  loved  you 
so  dearly  and  for  so  long  that  we  feel  as  though  you 
belonged  to  us,  and  hoped  you  felt  the  same.  I  know 
Mamma  thinks  as  much  of  you  as  she  does  of  me,  for 


13  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

she  does  occasionally  hold  you  up  to  me  as  an  example, 
though  I  doubt  if  she  has  ever  flattered  me  that  much 
to  you."  She  smiled,  continuing,  "In  all  her  plans  for 
me  you  are  equally  included.  The  coming  out  Tea  this 
Fall  and  the  trip  abroad  later,  are  as  much  for  your 
benefit  and  pleasure  as  mine,  you  know  that;  while  as 
for  not  'belonging'  to  any  one,"  she  finished  signifi 
cantly,  "I'm  afraid  it  may  not  be  very  long  before  you 
allow  a  certain  young  man  of  our  acquaintance  to  per 
suade  you  to  give  yourself  to  him;  and  then  where  will 
/  come  in  ?" 

"There  isn't  the  least  danger  of  anything  like  that, 
Margaret,"  put  in  the  other  quickly,  though  with  a 
sudden  deep  flush.  "Of  course"  she  went  on,  seri 
ously,  "I  shall  never  marry  any  one  with  whom  I  am 
not  desperately  in  love;  but  that  will  be  an  entirely 
different  sentiment,  and  you  will  always  be  my  very 
dearest  friend.  Even  though  life  should  some  day 
separate  us — which  I  pray  it  never  may — no  one  could 
ever  take  your  place,  dear,  or  come  between  us.  As 
Ruskin  has  put  it  you  remember,  One  ought  to  be 
able  to  keep  one's  friends  like  one's  wine,  any  number 
of  years  in  the  cellar,  only  to  find  it  a  little  crusted 
at  last  but  better  in  flavor  than  ever,  so  our  friendship 
cannot  help  but  grow  sweeter  and  deeper." 

"There's  no  question  about  that,  dearie,  so  now 
cheer  up  and  let's  talk  about  the  jolly  Summer  that's 
before  us,"  rejoined  Margaret,  gaily.  "I'm  so  glad 
that  Mamma  decided  to  re-open  our  home  at  the  Lake, 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  19 

this  season.  It's  the  grandest  place,  Gertie;  you'll  go 
just  simply  wild  over  the  gorgeous  scenery,  and  want 
to  spend  all  your  time  sketching  I'm  afraid.  Papa 
really  discovered  the  spot  and  when  I  was  a  child  we 
were  about  the  only  ones  who  went  there;  but  gradu 
ally  other  families  of  our  set  have  put  up  cottages, 
until  this  Summer  there'll  be  quite  a  little  colony  of  us. 
Papa  loved  the  place  so  that  of  course  Mamma  would 
rather  have  spent  every  Summer  there;  but  she  is 
always  so  self-sacrificing  you  know,  that  for  the  last 
few  years,  since  I  have  been  at  college,  in  fact,  we 
have  not  been  up,  for  she  has  felt  that  it  would  be  too 
lonesome  for  you  and  me,  perhaps,  and  beside,  at  our 
age  we  ought  not  to  be  deprived  of  the  practical  social 
education  of  the  watering  places;  hence  the  delightful 
seasons  we  have  had  at  Lake  George,  Long  Branch 
and  Saratoga.  Which  one  do  you  think  you  really 
enjoyed  the  most,  Gertie?"  she  queried  in  conclusion. 

"They  were  each  so  delightful,  Margaret,"  replied 
the  other  heartily — now  in  full  rapport  with  her 
friend's  happy  mood — "that  it  would  be  very  hard  to 
choose  between  them;  still,  I  think  the  Long  Branch 
and  Centennial  season  pleased  me  a  little  the  most.  1 
enjoyed  the  Fair  immensely,  and  then  when  we  got  to 
the  ocean — my  first  experience,  you  know — the  surf 
was  simply  glorious.  We  got  to  be  pretty  good 
swimmers,  too,  before  we  left,  didn't  we?" 

"That's  what  we  did,  thanks  to  Mr.  Nichols'  help 
and  instructions,"  assented  the  other.  "And  how 


20  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

stunning  we  must  have  looked  in  those  exquisite 
bathing  suits,  Gertie !  And  what  a  lot  of  other  pretty 
clothes  we  had  beside";  she  went  on,  with  a  pleased, 
proud  smile  of  recollection;  "do  you  remember? 
That's  one  thing  we  haven't  got  to  bother  very  much 
about  this  Summer,  though,  for  at  the  Lake  we  shall 
practically  live  in  our  mountain  suits,  as  we're  going 
to  do  a  good  deal  of  semi-camping  out ;  to  rest  up  our 
nerves,  as  Mamma  puts  it,  and  fortify  us  for  our  first 
Winter  in  Society.  But  isn't  that  the  last  call  for 
dinner?"  she  finished  abruptly.  "We'd  better  spruce 
up  a  bit  and  hurry  in,  or  we  shall  be  too  late."  And 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  twain  were  soon 
giving  their  orders  in  the  dining  car. 

"Through?"  asked  Gertie,  as  the  other  moved  back 
her  finger-bowl,  at  the  close  of  the  leisurely  meal. 
Then  rising,  led  the  way  back  into  the  sleeper,  where 
they  settled  themselves  for  a  second  perusal  of  Mrs. 
Armstrong's  last  letter,  which,  delayed  in  transit,  had 
not  been  received  until  that  very  day  just  before  the 
hour  of  their  starting;  hence  hastily  read.  As  their 
affairs  are  now  becoming  public  property,  we  shall 
surely  be  pardoned  for  looking  over  and  reading  with 
them  the  following  motherly  effusion: 

"Denver,   Colo.,  June   I5th. 
My  dear,  dear  daughter: — 

Words  cannot  convey  to  you  any  idea  of  the  depth 
of  my  disappointment  at  not  being  able  to  be  with 
you  for  Commencement,  for  I  have  been  looking  so 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  21 

joyously  forward  to  that  proud  day  all  these  lonely 
years  that  you  have  been  away  from  me — of  course  I 
should  have  been  very  proud  of  you — and  up  to  nearly 
the  last  I  fondly  hoped  to  be  able  to  go.  But  my 
strength  doesn't  come,  somehow,  and  the  doctor  would 
not  give  his  consent ;  so  I  decided  it  would  be  the  part 
of  greater  wisdom  to  bow  to  his  will.  Since  my 
severe  illness  of  the  late  Winter  I  haven't  been  my  old 
self  at  all,  although  I  have  written  you  but  little  in 
reference  to  it.  But  I  am  hoping  for  great  things  from 
my  Summer  out  of  doors  in  the  mountains.  At  the 
place  I  love  best  of  all  on  earth  and  blessed  with  my 
dear  child  again  with  me,  I  believe  that  I  shall  be  com 
pletely  renovated.  I  must  get  well  and  strong  by 
Fall,  you  know,  for  there's  so  much  before  us. 

Will  was  as  much  disappointed  as  I  at  not  being 
able  to  go  on,  but  business  called  him  to  Chicago  last 
night  and  will  detain  him  until  the  twenty-fourth,  so 
that  he  will  only  just  be  nicely  through  when  you 
reach  there.  I  am  so  rejoiced  that  you  will  then  have 
our  friend  Mrs.  Nichols  and  he  with  you  for  the  rest 
of  the  way,  for  it  would  be  a  lonely  and  tedious  trip 
for  you  and  Gertie  otherwise.  It  is  hard  for  me  to 
reconcile  myself  to  the  idea  of  you  taking  any  part  of 
it  unescorted,  but  you  have  both  had  so  much  experi 
ence  in  traveling  that  I  shall  try  not  to  worry. 

I  want  that  we  should  start  for  the  Lake  within  a 
couple  of  days  after  you  arrive,  if  possible.  The 
Clarks,  Chapins,  Elliotts,  Maynards,  Somervilles,  Har- 


22  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

risons  and  Lindsays  have  already  gone  up  and  arc 
entertaining  large  house  parties.  The  other  fami 
lies  will  all  open  their  homes  within  the  next  week, 
so  you  see  there  will  be  a  numerous  and  congenial  lot 
of  young  people  around  all  the  time,  and  I  hope  you 
will  both  enjoy  the  season  as  much  as  those  spent  at 
the  large  resorts.  You  know  I  live  only  for  your 
happiness. 

Tom  and  Winnie  have  been  up  for  two  weeks  get 
ting  the  cottage  ready  for  occupancy  once  more ;  they 
returned  last  evening  and  tomorrow  start  back  with 
the  last  load  of  furnishings.  Winnie  says :  "Shure  it's 
jist  loike  Hiven  up  there  now,  Mrs.  Armsthrong,  an' 
it  '11  be  a  doin'  yer  that  much  good  that  yer'll  be 
comin'  back  lukin'  as  rosy  as  the  dawn  an'  tin  years 
younger.  But  it's  a  sharp  eye  yer  must  be  a  kapin' 
on  Miss  Margaret  an'  Miss  Gertie,  fer  there  do  be  a 
power  o'  foine  young  men  up  there,  but  niver  a  gur'l 
did  I  see  as  cud  tich  aither  o'  thim  fer  sthyle  an'  beauty ; 
an'  it's  that  same  I  was  afther  tellin'  Misther  Nichols 
'imsilf .  O,  but  'es  the  thrue  gintleman,  God  bless  'im ! 
Didn't  'e  take  Tom  down  inter  'is  mine  whin  'e  wint  up 
ter  give  'im  yer  letther,  an'  showed  'im  all  the  sthones 
full  o'  goold,  an'  give  'im  wan  ter  bring, home  ter  me? 
It's  a  foine  new  shkiff  'e's  got  locked  up  in  'is  boat- 
house;  'im  a  callin'  it  the  Gertie,  an'  waitin'  ter  give 
'is  sisther-in-law  frum  Shecargo  the  furst  ride  in  it. 
Leastways,  that's  what  'e  was  afther  tellin'  Tom ;  shure 
'e  wudn't  expect  me  ter  belave  it." 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  23 

"What  are  you  blushing  so  for,  Gertie"?  asked  the 
other,  looking  laughingly  up. 

"I'm  not  blushing,  you  tease !"  affirmed  the  accused 
one,  boldly,  despite  an  uncontrollable  rising  of  color; 
then — "please  go  on,"  she  coaxed.  And  thus  urged, 
the  reader  continued :  "I  shall  not  have  Winnie  come 
down  again,  but  To'm  will  be  back  to  take  Mrs.  Gardi 
ner  and  me  up  in  the  carriage.  The  Rector  and  Harold 
take  their  horses  of  course,  and  will  ride  with  you 
girls,  Mrs.  Nichols  and  Clayton.  Peter  will  take 
Cecile,  Norah,  Mary  and  Mrs.  Gardiner's  maid  in  the 
carryall,  and  their — the  Gardiner's —  man  will  follow 
with  the  camp  luggage  and  provisions  in  a  big  moun 
tain  wagon.  We  are  all  expecting  to  enjoy  the  trip  up 
very  much,  making  it  leisurely  so  as  not  to  be  too 
fatigueing;  I  think  we  shall  be  about  two  weeks  on 
the  road. 

"Will  cannot  get  away  for  a  week  or  two  later, 
probably,  but  has  planned  to  take  a  good  long  vacation 
when  he  does  come, — the  first  in  several  years — and  I 
hope  he  can  then  be  with  us  for  the  rest  of  the  season. 

"Jacquard  has  just  sent  your  mountain  suits  home; 
they  are  very  jaunty  affairs,  sure  to  be  becoming  to 
you  both.  He  goes  abroad  in  July,  and  we  must  find 
time  before  we  leave  to  give  him  instructions  as  to 
some  of  our  Fall  outfits;  he  returns  in  plenty  of  time 
for  your  Tea. 

"But  I  must  close.  Goodbye  for  the  last  time,  my 
dear  child.  I  am  counting  the  days — it  will  soon  be 


24  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  hours — until  I  can  again  fold  you  to  my  heart ;  and 
I  shall  be  happy  indeed  when  I  am  once  more  per 
mitted  to  do  that — for  the  years  have  been  O,  so  lonely 
without  you,  Margaret — and  to  welcome  Gertie  to  our 
little  family  circle;  she  knows  well  how  deeply  I  love 
her. 

"Once  more,  au  revoir.  That  God  will  have  you  in 
His  care  and  keeping  and  bring  you  safe  home,  will 
be  the  constant  prayer  of — 

Your  loving  Mother," 

There  was  a  suspicious  moisture  in  Margaret  Arm 
strong's  eyes  as  she  folded  this  precious  missive  and 
said  to  her  friend :  "I'm  dreadfully  worried  about 
Mamma,  Gertie,  for  she  must  be  poorly  indeed  not  to 
have  come  on  this  Summer.  Winnie's  remark  shows 
that  she  must  even  be  looking  very  badly ;  she  watches 
Mamma's  health  with  the  eyes  of  love,  for  she  really 
has  a  very  deep  affection  for  her.  You  know  she  has 
been  our  laundress  ever  since  Mamma  was  married, 
and  considers  herself  a  part  of  the  family,  although 
never  presuming.  She  had  been  a  most  faithful  ser 
vant,  and  when  she  and  Tom  were  married — he  has 
been  coachman  since  I  was  quite  a  little  tot — Mamma- 
gave  them  two  weeks  of  vacation ;  and  O,  how  proud 
it  did  make  poor  Winnie  to  be  able  to  go  off  on  a 
'toor'  like  other  folks.  She  positively  worships  Mam 
ma;  in  fact,  all  our  servants  do,  for  she  makes  the 
Golden  Rule  her  guide  in  her  treatment  of  them,  just 
as  she  does  in  all  the  other  relationships  of  life.  Her 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  25 

religion  is  so  real;  showing  her  faith  by  her  works, 
daily;  her  purse  is  always  open  to  the  needy,  every 
case  of  suffering  or  sorrow  that  she  hears  of  appealing 
to  her  instantly.  Papa  was  the  same,  and  their  life 
together  was  simply  beautiful;  I  know  if  it  had  not 
been  for  my  need  of  her,  that  Mamma  would  not  have 
cared  to  nor  have  felt  equal  to  the  effort  of  living, 
after  he  was  gone." 

"She  certainly  is  one  of  Nature's  noble-women," 
returned  the  other  warmly,  "and  we  must  be  very 
watchful  that  she  has  no  needless  anxieties  upon  our 
accounts  now ;  also  that  she  doesn't  over-do  this  Sum 
mer."  Then  concluded  encouragingly:  "She'll  be  so 
happy  hereafter,  dear,  that  it  will  surely  help  her  to 
get  well." 

"God  grant  it!"  murmured  the  anxious  daughter  in 
a  subdued  whisper,  and  then  lapsed  into  silence;  her 
prayer,  for  such  it  most  truly  was,  wafted  to  Heaven 
on  the  soft  evening  breeze;  her  thoughts,  no  doubt, 
hastening  on  the  fleet  wings  of  love  to  the  far  distant 
parent.  An  hour  later  the  familiar:  "Shall  I  make  up 
your  berths,  Miss  ?"  aroused  her  from  her  reverie,  and 
it  was  yet  early  when  they  had  settled  down  for  the 
night. 

Now,  it  being  the  wish  and  purpose  of  the  author 
that  the  characters  of  this  story  be  known  to  the  reader 
not  merely  by  suggestion,  but  by  intimate  acquaintance 
as  it  were,  while  we  leave  our  young  heroines  to 
wander  with  the  sweet  Spirit  of  Sleep  through  Dream- 


26  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

land's  fanciful  realm,  let  us,  through  as  brief  intro 
ductions  as  may  suffice,  become  acquainted  with  the 
three  personages  of  Mrs.  Armstrong's  letter  who  must 
first  be  met  with  on  the  morrow :  'Mrs.  Nichols,' 
'Clayton'  and  'Will.'  And  first,  of  course,  the  lady. 

Mrs.  George  Benedict  Nichols  of  Chicago — who 
journeys  with  us  from  this  point  of  our  story  to  its 
close,  and  whose  recorded  sayings  and  doings  must 
therefore  be  either  enjoyed  or  tolerated — was  a  petite 
brunette  of  the  most  pronounced  type ;  stylish,  extrava 
gant,  self-willed  yet  warm-hearted,  irrepressibly  good- 
humored,  jolly  and  vivacious  of  disposition,  an  incorri 
gible  flirt  for  the  pure  fun  of  the  thing  before  her 
marriage,  but  who  for  upwards  of  three  years  ante 
dating  this  period,  had  been  the  devoted  young  wife — 
she  was  now  but  two  and  twenty — of  a  man  much 
more  than  twice  her  years.  Nothing  but  the  at 
traction  of  opposites  could  possibly  have  drawn  this 
pair  together,  since  they  were  as  far  apart  as  the  poles, 
in  every  characteristic; — he  was  a  big,  handsome  man 
and  blonde,  very  serious  minded,  quiet  and  wedded  to 
business.  Yet  it  had  been  a  true  love  match  upon 
both  sides,  and  Alice  Adams — about  whom  envious, 
managing  mammas  had  said  many  unkind,  spiteful 
things,  when  her  unexpected  engagement  to  the  good 
catch  whom  they  had  long  vainly  angled  for,  was  an 
nounced — fairly  worshipped  the  indulgent,  apprecia 
tive  husband  whose  wife  she  was  most  proud  to  be. 

Now,  this  man  of  years  and  affairs — who  would  not 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP 

be  hooked  against  his  will — had  unselfishly  refrained 
from  marrying  younger,  that  he  might  give  his  undi 
vided  love  and  care  and  effort  to  the  interests  of  the 
little  brother  fifteen  years  his  junior,  whose  upbring 
ing  it  had  fallen  to  his  lot  to  shoulder  at  the  age  of 
twenty ;  and  not  alone  the  upbringing  of  the  child,  but 
the  winning  of  a  competence  if  possible  for  them  both 
from  the  small  patrimony  bequeathed  them  by  their 
parents,  by  the  time  the  younger  should  have  reached 
the  age  of  twenty-five;  at  which  time,  so  it  was  or 
dered,  division  was  to  be  made,  two  to  one  in  favor  of 
the  elder.  So  abundantly  had  diligence  and  foresight 
been  rewarded,  that  at  the  stipulated  time,  Clayton 
Nichols,  an  earnest,  manly,  fine  looking  fellow,  well 
educated,  with  refined  tastes  and  correct  habits  and 
happily  in  no  wise  lacking  in  gratitude  to  the  brother 
who,  both  morally  and  materially,  had  so  faithfully  dis 
charged  his  responsibility  to  him,  came  into  possession 
of  a  comfortable  little  fortune,  while  the  elder  was 
rightly  considered  a  moderately  rich  man ;  this  compe 
tence  having  all  been  made  in  grain ;  a  brokerage  busi 
ness,  with  occasional  cautious  speculating  in  the  com 
modity,  and  with  the  resultant  profits  intelligently  re 
invested  in  Chicago  real  estate. 

This  comfortable  condition  of  life  having  been  at 
tained,  George  Nichols  married  in  the  Fall  of  seventy- 
five,  and  immediately  went  abroad  with  his  bride,  re 
turning  the  following  Summer  and  together  with  the 
brother,  Clayton,  taking  in  our  first  world's  fair,  the 


28  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Centennial  Exposition.  It  was  while  in  Philadelphia 
for  this  purpose  that  the  trio  had  first  met  Mrs.  Arm 
strong  and  our  girls,  also  bent  upon  the  same  errand. 
Now  the  fact  of  Mr.  Armstrong  and  Mr.  Nichols 
having  had  some  business  acquaintance  during  the  life 
time  of  the  former,  soon  developing,  proved  at  once 
a  bond  between  them ;  and  being  a  most  congenial 
company  from  the  start,  it  had  been  a  mutual  pleasure 
to  find  that  Long  Branch  was  their  ultimate  destina 
tion  for  the  Summer,  and  as  they  were  to  put  up  at  the 
same  hotel,  Mrs.  Armstrong — who  found  no  enjoy 
ment  in  the  gay  scenes  around  her — had  been  well 
content  to  accept  of  the  many  offers  of  chaperonage 
for  her  young  charges  made  by  Mrs.  Nichols.  Accord 
ingly,  that  vivacious  little  lady,  the  girls  and  Clayton 
Nichols,  were  very  often  to  be  found  together,  plung 
ing  and  struggling  in  the  waves,  strolling  idly  along  or 
lolling  upon  the  glistening  beach,  in  lively  competition 
for  honors  in  the  bowling  alley,  waltzing  away  an  ex 
citing  evening  in  the  gay  ballroom,  or  off  on  one  or 
other  of  the  various  pleasurable  jaunts  with  which  the 
happy  hours  were  whiled  away;  and  it  was  to  this 
season  that  Gertrude  Warfield,  it  will  be  remembered, 
had  referred  as  the  one  that  'pleased  me  a  little  the 
most/  How  could  it  have  been  otherwise  than  a  de 
lightful  season  to  the  sweet  and  lonely  young  girl, 
when  unmistakable  and  constant  evidences  of  the  deep 
est  admiration  of  her  upon  the  part  of  their  gallant 
attendant,  were  so  patent  to  all  the  rest  of  the  party. 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  29 

For  both  girls,  however,  September  and  a  return  to 
school  came  all  too  soon,  although  they  had  before 
them  the  prospect  of  again  meeting  with  their  agree 
able  new  friends  a  few  months  later ;  Mrs.  Armstrong 
having  been  prevailed  upon  to  accept  an  invitation  for 
the  Christmas  holidays  for  them  and  herself  to  the 
Nichols'  home,  Chicago.  Here,  we  pause  to  state,  they 
were  most  sumptuously  entertained,  and  Mrs.  Arm 
strong  returning  the  courtesy  the  following  year,  the 
little  party  had  therefore  passed  several  very  satisfac 
tory  and  happy  periods  together  before  our  acquaint 
ance  with  them  through  this  narrative.  It  was  while 
upon  this  Denver  visit  of  the  previous  year  that  George 
Nichols,  to  the  delight  of  them  all,  had  decided  to 
build  a  Summer  home  upon  the  shores  of  beautiful 
Lake  Sylvanus — where  was  situated  that  of  the  Arm 
strongs — and  but  little  more  than  a  mile  from  the 
'Alice'  mine,  in  which  the  brothers  were  largely 
interested. 

An  engineer  by  profession,  Clayton  Nichols,  in  the 
Spring  of  '78,  had  taken  charge  of  this  property  to 
superintend  its  greater  development.  He  was  there 
fore  in  close  proximity  to  the  new  mountain  home  at 
the  Lake;  and  the  name  given  to  his  new  'shkifF — 
as  quoted  in  Mrs.  Armstrong's  letter — showed  that 
though  out  of  sight,  a  certain  much  admired  school 
girl  of  his  acquaintance  had  been  by  no  means,  out 
of  mind. 

Lastly,  the  'Will'  so  familiarly  referred  to  in  the 


30  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

foregoing  epistle,  was  Willard  Manning ;  at  the  time  a 
prominent  young  Denver  bachelor  aged  thirty-two,  and 
the  very  capable  cashier  of  the  Armstrong-Sherwood 
Banking  Company.  He  had  come  to  its  employ  in  a 
minor  position  some  fourteen  years  before,  during  the 
late  Mr.  Armstrong's  presidency,  and  being  a  distant 
family  connection  by  marriage  and  stranger  in  the 
western  city,  had  been  asked  into  the  home  of  his 
employer.  This  was  about  the  time  its  daughter — 
twelve  years  his  junior — was  emerging  from  the  nur 
sery  ;  and  the  child  had  grown  up  regarding  him  much 
as  an  indulgent  elder  brother,  who  brought  her  can 
dies,  let  her  beat  him  at  dominoes,  and  was  always  on 
hand  to  act  as  master  of  ceremonies  at  her  little  parties. 
Now  Margaret  Manning  was  one  who  grew  and 
developed  slowly ;  so  that  up  to  the  time  of  her  leaving 
home  for  college  she  had  been  to  the  young  man  but 
a  nice,  interesting  little  girl.  At  that  age  she  gave 
scant  promise  of  becoming  the  handsome,  queenly 
miss  described  in  this  opening  chapter.  In  fact,  it  was 
not  until  Margaret  had  about  completed  her  eighteenth 
year  that  there  was  any  very  noticeable  change  in  her 
appearance ;  then,  all  at  once,  she  had  seemed  to  burst 
from  insignificant  bud  to  full  blown,  gorgeous  flower. 
Her  Summer  vacations  had  all  been  spent  at  Eastern 
resorts,  as  the  reader  already  knows,  the  Winter  ones 
either  in  New  York  or  Chicago ;  all  excepting  the  last, 
when  she  had  come  home  accompanied  by  her  chum 
and  friends;  hence,  the  young  man  had  not  seen  the 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  31 

girl  in  all  those  determining  years,  and  was  wholly 
unprepared  for  the  changes  they  had  wrought.  For 
while  with  a  cultured  mother's  loving  pride  Mrs. 
Armstrong  had  dilated  to  some  extent  upon  her  daugh 
ter's  treasures  of  heart  and  mind,  so  that  of  these  he 
was  reasonably  well  aware,  of  her  physical  charms  she 
had  said  but  little;  and  Willard , Manning's  surprise, 
therefore,  upon  meeting  with  her  again  was  only  ex 
ceeded  by  his  so  glaringly  evident  admiration,  that 
their  guest  at  the  time,  Mrs.  Nichols,  who  possessed  an 
ungovernable  penchant  for  matchmaking — she  had 
mated  Gertrude  Warfield  and  her  brother-in-law  at 
their  very  first  meeting — seeming  to  see  in  it  another 
matrimonial  possibility,  had  gleefully  diagnosed  his 
case  to  her  husband  as  incurably  smitten. 

But  the  stay  at  home  was  short,  barely  one  week, 
and  the  general  entertaining  to  be  done  had  afforded 
no  opportunity  for  the  paying  of  any  marked  attention 
to  the  girl,  even  had  not  the  unfinished  education  have 
forbidden.  On  the  evening  after  her  departure,  how 
ever,  the  enamored  young  man — with  his  natural 
directness — had  informed  the  mother  of  his  love  for 
her  daughter  and  asked  permission  to  pay  his  ad 
dresses  when  she  next  returned.  To  his  gratification 
this  was  given  unhesitatingly;  for  truth  to  tell,  Mrs. 
Armstrong  had  not  been  displeased  at  his  apparent  in 
terest  in  her  child. 

"It  is  my  wish  and  hope  that  Margaret  shall  be  dis 
posed  to  marry  young,  Willard,"  was  her  frank  avowal, 


32  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"for  I  know  that  my  days  are  numbered,  and  when  the 
imperative  summons  shall  come,  it  will  materially 
lessen  the  pain  of  leaving  her  if  I  have  already  seen  her 
happily  settled  in  life.  From  my  long  and  intimate 
knowledge  of  your  character  and  worth,  I  should  feel 
that  her  happiness  would  be  safe  in  your  keeping,"  she 
went  on  with  very  flattering  frankness,  "and  you  there 
fore  not  only  have  my  permission  to  press  your  suit, 
but  my  hearty  good  wishes  for  success  as  well.  Al 
though  I  shall  neither  say  or  do  anything  to  influence 
Margaret's  choice ;  for  it  is  a  matter  which  vitally  con 
cerns  her  alone,  and  no  faintest  wish  of  mine  shall 
sway  her ;  but  I  hope  you  will  win  her. 

"It  is  certainly  more  than  gratifying  to  learn  of  the 
high  esteem  in  which  you  hold  me,  Mrs.  Armstrong/' 
replied  the  would-be  son-in-law  appreciatively,  "and  I 
thank  you  sincerely  for  so  candid  an  expression ;  for  I 
feel  it  to  be  the  very  greatest  compliment  that  could  be 
paid  a  man.  Now  that  I  have  your  consent  I  feel  that 
Margaret  is  already  mine,  and  believe  me,  it  shall  be 
the  purpose  and  endeavor  of  my  life  to  justify  your 
great  confidence  in  me,"  he  concluded,  with  character 
istic  earnestness  and  sincerity. 

"Margaret  has  of  course  met  but  comparatively  few 
gentlemen  as  yet,  Willard,"  resumed  the  mother  after 
a  slight  pause.  "I  do  not  think  her  affections  are  cen 
tered  in  any  one  else,  although  Harold  Gardiner  has 
been  wonderfully  fond  of  her  always ;  and  when  they 
met  last  Winter  for  the  first  time  in  several  years,  I 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  FRIENDSHIP  33 

could  plainly  see  that  the  old  fondness  had  by  no  means 
died  out.  Now  Margaret  may  care  for  him ;  I  do  not 
know  as  to  that.  He's  a  splendid  fellow  and  his  family 
of  course,  all  that  could  be  desired.  Still  he  would 
not  be  my  choice  for  her,  for  although  there  is  several 
years  difference  in  their  ages,  Margaret  is  such  an  un 
commonly  womanly  girl  as  to  seem  considerably  the 
older  of  the  two;  and  I  do  not  think  she  could  ever 
look  up  to  him  to  the  extent  /  consider  a  woman  wishes 
and  ought,  to  her  husband,  for  their  greatest  happi 
ness.  However,  they  will  be  much  together  this  Sum 
mer,  and  I  fancy  it  will  soon  be  apparent  what  their 
feelings  to  each  other  now  are.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Gardiner 
has  hinted  to  me  that  Harold  will  be  a  suitor." 

Unpleasantly  surprised  at  this  last  statement,  the 
aspiring  lover  at  hand  made  no  immediate  move  to 
reply;  so  his  companion  went  on:  "I  feel  equally 
anxious  as  to  Gertie's  future,  for  she  could  not  be 
dearer  to  me  were  she  and  Margaret  sisters.  A  girl 
so  extremely  beautiful  both  in  looks  and  character, 
having  her  accomplishments  and  independent  means, 
will  undoubtedly  be  much  sought  after.  She  is  so 
essentially  loving  in  nature,  too,  that  I  imagine  she 
will  be  inclined  to  marry  soon ;  especially  as  not  having 
the  same  force  and  independence  in  her  makeup  as 
our  Margaret,  she  really  needs  some  one  to  lean  upon 
and  cling  to.  She  is  also  generous  to  an  extreme  de 
gree,  and  to  the  man  whom  she  loved  she  would  give 
her  all ;  which  makes  it  so  important  that  he  be  worthy 


34  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

of  her.  In  that  case  Gertie  will  be  one  of  the  most 
radiantly  happy  women  on  earth ;  living  in  and  for  her 
husband.  But  should  she  make  an  unfortunate  mar 
riage  she  would  be  crushed,  heart-broken;  and  I  be 
lieve  God  would  show  scant  mercy  to  the  ingrate  who 
should  be  responsible  for  the  wreck  of  so  lovely  a 
being." 

"She  certainly  is  a  very  sweet  and  charming  girl," 
asserted  her  listener  heartily.  "Clayton  Nichols  thinks 
a  heap  of  her,  doesn't  he?" 

"O,  yes;  that's  very  evident,"  laughed  Mrs.  Arm 
strong.  Adding:  "And  I  think  she  does  of  him,  too. 
I  sincerely  hope  so,  for  in  that  case  I  should  feel  no 
further  anxiety.  There  isn't  a  finer  young  man  than 
he  living,  and  Gertie  and  he  would  make  a  perfectly 
ideal  couple.  Margaret  and  she  are  so  utterly  wrapped 
up  in  each  other  that  I  hope  they  may  never  be  sepa 
rated,  even  in  their  married  life,"  she  finished. 

From  that  time  Margaret,  naturally,  had  been  a 
constant  topic  of  conversation  between  these  two,  and 
the  being  with  her  upon  her  graduation  day  the  pleas 
ure  to  which  both  had  looked  joyfully  forward;  though 
of  the  disappointment  to  their  hopes  in  this  respect, 
we  have  already  learned  by  letter. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   JOURNEY   CONTINUED THE   TRIP   TO   THE   LAKE. 

"When  Clayton  Nichols  and  Harold  Gardiner 
unexpectedly  swung  aboard  of  their  still  moving 
train  as  it  rolled  into  the  Denver  depot,  they 
found  a  very  merry  party  of  travelers  to  wel 
come." 

As  the  train  bearing  our  young  friends  homeward 
slowed  down  at  Englewood — a  suburban  town  some 
seven  miles  east  of  Chicago — the  following  day,  Ger 
trude,  seated  by  the  open  window  intent  upon  the  fas 
cinating  story  with  which  Margaret  regaled  her,  sud 
denly  interrupted  the  reading  to  exclaim:  "Why, 
there's  Mr.  Manning  now,  as  I  live !"  at  the  same  time 
smiling,  bowing  and  waving  her  hand. 

"No!  Where?"  burst  out  her  companion;  excitedly 
dropping  her  book  and  looking  out. 

"He's  just  gotten  aboard !"  returned  the  other.  And 
jumping  up  both  girls  hastened  to  the  door  of  the  car 
to  greet  their  unexpected  escort. 

Now  Margaret  Armstrong  being  as  yet  in  ignor 
ance  of  the  young  man's  declaration  to  her  mother, 
was  therefore  under  no  constraint;  so  there  was  the 
old  time  charming  naturalness  in  her  reception  of  him. 
"O,  Will !"  she  cried ;  extending  both  hands,  her  beau 
tiful  face  wreathed  in  smiles.  "How  delighted  I  am 


36  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  see  you !  This  is  just  the  loveliest  surprise !  Why, 
I  had  never  thought  that  you  might  come  out  a  ways !" 
And  voice,  looks  and  manner,  all  combined  to  give 
added  emphasis  to  her  emphatically  warm,  welcoming 
words. 

"The  pleasure  is  all  mine,  Margaret,"  returned  the 
man  even  more  cordially.  "Why,  I  would  gladly  have 
traveled  much  further  if  necessary,  for  such  a  recep 
tion  as  this."  And  pressing  the  girl's  hands  warmly  as 
he  spoke,  he  released  but  one  of  them  as  he  took  the 
extended  hand  of  her  friend;  saying  as  he  did  so: 
"And  I  am  truly  delighted  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  Miss  Warfield  again." 

"It's  mutual,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Manning.  I  never 
had  a  pleasanter  surprise  in  my  life  than  when  I  saw 
you  standing  there  on  the  platform." 

"But  how  did  you  leave  Mamma,  Will?"  broke  in 
Margaret,  when  they  had  seated  themselves  for  a  mo 
ment  in  one  of  the  unoccupied  sections  of  their  car. 
"I'm  so  uneasy  about  her !" 

"Yes;  how  is  Aunt  Nellie?"  chimed  in  the  other 
girl,  quickly.  "I'm  fully  as  anxious  about  her  as  Mar 
garet,  for  you  know  she's  going  to  mother  me,  too, 
hereafter." 

"Well  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  she  hasn't  been  just  her 
self  for  some  time,"  was  the  discouraging  reply,  "and 
has  seemed  to  miss  you  more  this  term,  Margaret,  than 
ever  before.  I've  sometimes  thought,  in  fact,  that  it 
was  as  much  that  which  ailed  her  as  anything.  But 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  37 

your  return  and  the  Summer  at  the  Lake  are  going  to 
do  wonders  for  her,  I  think;  she  feels  so  herself,  too, 
and  that's  half  the  battle,  you  know,  so  they're  sure  to. 
She's  so  pleased  that  you're  coming  to  live  with  us 
now,  Miss  Warfield;  you  may  not  know  it,  but  she 
thinks  as  much  of  you  as  though  you  were  her  own 
child ;  she  has  told  me  so  in  plain  English.  You  are  a 
very  fortunate  young  lady,  I  think,  to  be  loved  so 
deeply  by  such  a  splendid  woman." 

"I  don't  think;  I  know  I  am,  Mr.  Manning,  and  I 
hope  I  value  her  interest  in  me  at  its  true  worth" ;  re 
plied  Gertrude.  "I  should  be  lonely  indeed  today  were 
it  not  for  her  love  and  Margaret's." 

"And  that  of  a  certain  young  gentleman  whom  we 
all  know  ?"  laughed  the  other. 

"Now,  Mr.  Manning," — the  girl  blushed — "I  do  hope 
you  are  not  going  to  be  as  mean  as  Margaret  upon 
that  subject;  she  is  continually  teasing,  when  really 
there  is  no  grounds  for  it  at  all.  Of  course,  I  think 
Mr.  Nichols  a  very  nice  young  man,  and  I  hope  we 
shall  always  be  the  best  of  friends.  But — " 

"Who  said  anything  about  Mr.  Nichols,  I'd  like  to 
know?"  interrupted  Margaret,  with  a  mischievous 
smile.  "O,  Gertie,  you  are  such  an  ingenuous  little 
dear!  A  guilty  conscience;  eh,  Will?"  she  finished, 
teasingly. 

"It  certainly  looks  that  way,"  assented  the  young 
man.  Adding  heartily :  "But  it's  nothing  to  be  the  least 
bit  ashamed  of,  Miss  Warfield,  for  Clayton's  as  fine  a 


38  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

fellow  as  God  ever  made,  and  I  herewith  offer  my 
services  to  give  you  away." 

"Thanks,  awfully!"  returned  the  embarrassed  girl. 
"You're  dreadfully  kind,  though  much  too  previous." 
And  then  to  change  the  subject,  quickly  suggested  bid 
ding  Mrs.  Winslow — a  traveling  acquaintance  in  the 
car  ahead — goodbye. 

"Why,  yes";  promptly  agreed  her  companion.  "I 
had  nearly  forgotten  her  in  the  happy  surprise  of  see 
ing  Will.  You'll  excuse  us  for  a  moment?"  to  the 
young  man  as  they  arose  to  leave  him. 

Aglow  with  admiration,  Willard  Manning's  eyes  fol 
lowed  the  object  of  his  deepening  love  as  she  moved 
with  her  usual  dignified  grace  down  the  long  aisle ;  for 
was  she  not  now — to  his  ardent  imagination — a  thou 
sand  times  lovelier  than  when  he  had  bade  her  a  reluc 
tant  farewell  that  interminable  six  months  before  ?  Her 
demonstration  upon  meeting  him  had  left  nothing  to 
be  desired,  and  there  was  no  doubting  the  sincerity  of 
it.  True,  he  could  attach  no  significance  to  her  famili 
arity  of  address,  for  having  entered  Mr.  Armstrong's 
employ  and  their  home,  so  young,  he  had  never  been 
anything  but  Willard,  or  Will,  to  any  of  the  family; 
yet  to  his  excited  longing,  there  had  seemed  almost  a 
caress  in  the  soft,  sweet  tones  of  her  musical  voice  and 
the  kindling  glances  of  her  lustrous  eyes.  The  almost 
imperceptible  yet  spontaneous  pressure  of  her  hand 
had  thrilled  his  being  and  fascinated  more  even  than 
she  had  previously  done. 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  39 

"At  least,"  thought  he,  "I  am  not  distasteful 
to  her,  and  it  will  be  the  first  failure  to  my  credit 
if  I  do  not  succeed  in  winning  her  love  and  mak 
ing  her  life  happy.  She  must  be  mine!  With  her 
beauty  of  face  and  form,  her  wealth  of  affection, 
her  bright,  intelligent  mind  and  her  culture  and  accom 
plishments,  she  will  be  pleasing  to  the  eye  of  her  hus 
band,  satisfying  to  his  heart,  stimulating  to  his  ambi 
tion,  and  gratifying  to  his  pride.  Her  lively  sympa 
thies  will  cheer  and  comfort  him  when  depressed,  her 
saintly  purity  of  thought  and  action  be  at  once  a  re 
buke  and  example  when  tempted,  and  her  dignified 
reserve  and  repose  of  manner  a  rest  to  him  when 
wearied.  As  a  mother,  she  would  be  unselfishly  loving, 
though  firm,  wise,  capable;  commanding  alike  the 
grateful  affection,  obedience,  respect  and  admiration 
of  her  children,  thus  making  of  his  home  a  haven  of 
peace  and  happiness.  Yes,  she  must  be  mine!"  he 
mused  with  still  greater  positiveness. 

But  the  girl  just  then  reappearing  in  the  doorway, 
a  recollection  of  the  proposed  rival — as  confided  to 
him  by  Mrs.  Armstrong — flashed  through  the  infatu 
ated  man's  mind.  "Harold  Gardiner  be  hanged!"  he 
muttered  impatiently.  "I  like  his  presumption,  any 
how  !  That  boy  needs  to  be  taught  a  lesson,  and  he'll 
not  find  me  napping  when  I  appear  upon  the  scene!" 
All  of  which  proves  our  hero  to  have  been — of  the 
Earth,  earthy. 

"Any  baggage  to  be  looked  after?"  he  asked,  gaily, 


40  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

when  the  girls  had  rejoined  him,  and  the  clanging 
bell,  creaking  airbreaks  and  slackened  speed,  warned 
them  of  their  near-by  destination. 

"No,  our  trunks  are  checked  right  through,"  an 
swered  Margaret. 

"Well,  then,  give  me  your  traps" ;  as  the  train — with 
the  usual  unbalancing  jerk — came  to  a  sudden  stand 
still.  And  with  no  more  than  the  ordinary  amount  of 
feminine  hand  baggage,  the  little  party  alighted;  amid 
the  roar  and  rumble  of  in-coming  and  out-going  trains, 
the  confused  hurrying  hither  and  thither  of  arriving 
and  departing  passengers  and  the  mad  rush  of  the  be 
lated  to  their  all  but  moving  ones,  the  peremptory 
commands  of  burly  policemen,  the  persistent  impor 
tunities  of  hotel  runners  and  cabmen,  and  the  general 
ear-splitting,  nerve-racking  din  and  bustle  of  a  Chicago 
railway  station,  making  their  way  to  Mrs.  Nichol's 
carriage  in  waiting  to  convey  them  across  the  city  to 
their  connecting  train;  where  they  joined  that  lady 
and  continued  the  homeward  journey. 

It  was  a  jolly  ride  from  there  on,  as  well  it  might  be. 
The  man,  for  the  time  being,  in  the  intoxication  of  an 
as  yet  unspoken  love,  must  give  vent  in  some  way  to 
the  exuberance  of  happiness  within  him ;  and  therefore 
outdid  himself,  even,  in  gallantry, — he  was  a  universal 
drawing-room  favorite — anticipating  every  possible 
and  impossible  need  or  wish  that  could  in  any  degree 
add  to  the  greater  comfort  or  pleasure  of  his  charges. 

The  girls,  fresh  from  the  restraints  of  school,  happy 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  41 

in  the  satisfied  consciousness  of  completed  tasks  well 
done,  and  looking  out  upon  life  with  confidence  in 
themselves  and  faith  in  humanity,  anxious  to  taste  be 
cause  sure  of  enjoying  every  new  sensation  and  experi 
ence  in  store  for  them,  were  radiant  with  expectation 
and  hope. 

While  Mrs.  Nichols — as  good-humored  and  viva 
cious  as  ever — kept  the  party  keyed  up  to  an  un 
usual  pitch  of  merriment;  the  only  regret — and  which 
really  did  seem  to  sober  her  for  an  occasional  moment — 
being  the  fact  that  business  had  compelled  Georgie 
— she  was  an  original,  unconventional  little  body,  and 
would  persist  in  calling  her  big  husband  by  this  ab 
surdity  childish  name — to  go  over  to  London,  instead 
of  spending  this  first  Summer  in  their  new  mountain 
home  with  her,  as  had  been  expected. 

"Clayton  writes  that  the  bungalow's  exquisite,"  she 
said — pausing  to  explain  that  her  brother-in-law  was 
then  rusticating  at  the  Lake — "but  he's  getting  awfully 
impatient  for  our  arrival.  Says  there's  a  fine  big  crowd 
there  all  the  time,  but  that  he  can't  settle  down  to  en 
joying  himself  'til  we  get  there." 

"Yes,"  returned  Margaret,  "and  he's  got  a  fine  new 
boat  that  he's  waiting  to  give  you  the  first  row  in"; 
with  a  knowing  glance  at  Gertie.  But  checked  by 
the  look  of  mute  appeal  and  entreaty  which  she  met, 
concluded  innocently  with,  "Do  you  know  what  he's 
named  it?" 

"Why,  no" ;  was  the  quick  reply.  "I  didn't  even  know 


42  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

that  he'd  gotten  one,  especially  for  himself ;  but  I  pre 
sume  he  wants  to  surprise  me.  And  so  he's  not  going 
to  use  it  'til  /  come?"  she  queried  after  a  second's 
thought.  "Now  isn't  that  just  too  lovely  of  him?  How 
that  will  please  Georgie !  There's  a  brother-in-law  for 
you !"  Concluding  with  one  of  her  occasional  lapses 
into  slang:  "O,  Clayton's  a  brick!"  And  as  the  girls 
just  then  discovered  something  unusually  interesting  in 
the  scenery,  their  amused  smiles  escaped  observation. 

"But  girls,  aren't  you  delighted  to  be  through  with 
school?"  she  began  a  minute  later,  addressing  them 
both.  "I  really  don't  see  how  you  ever  stood  four 
years  of  it ;  why  two  at  Geneva  came  near  to  finishing 
me  in  more  ways  than  one.  You  know  I  didn't  want  to 
go  at  all,  for  to  leave  Joe,  Will  and  Judson — my  three 
pal  brothers — and  live  with  nobody  but  girls,  I  knew 
would  be  just  next  to  Purgatory  for  me;  though  I've 
no  doubt  I  needed  it  bad  enough,  for  growing  up  with 
no  one  but  boys  for  companions — my  sisters  were  all 
much  older — I  was  a  dreadful  tomboy.  But  don't  you 
think  it's  very  narrowing  to  her  for  a  girl  to  spend  so 
many  of  her  most  impressionable  years  exclusively 
with  her  own  sex,  Mr.  Manning?"  she  finished. 

"O,  I  don't  know  about  that,  Mrs.  Nichols" ;  replied 
the  man,  conservatively;  adding,  "although  it's  a  sub 
ject  I've  never  thought  much  about,  to  be  candid.  Co 
educational  institutions  have  their  advantages,  I  pre 
sume,  and  like  all  other  good  things  their  disadvan 
tages  as  well.  But  you  could  hardly  expect  me  to  take 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  43 

a  bold  stand  in  favor  of  them,  in  presence  of  such  flat 
tering  tributes  to  Geneva  and  Vassar  as  the  present." 

"Why,  no!  To  be  sure  not!"  acquiesced  his  inter 
rogator,  with  mock  deference.  "Girls,  make  your  very 
prettiest  bow  to  the  gentleman  for  such  an  unexpected 
compliment!"  she  commanded;  continuing,  "And  now 
tell  me  all  about  Commencement ;  what  were  you  down 
for,  Gertie  dear?" 

"Just  an  essay  on  Italian  art,"  replied  the  girl,  with 
careless  modesty;  then  quickly,  "but  you  should 
have  heard  Margaret  sing!  Such  exquisite  music! 
I  shall  never  forget  Professor  Muller's  face  as  he 
listened  to  her.  She  was  his  star  pupil,  you  know," 
she  hurried  on, — ignoring  her  friend's  efforts  to  stop 
her — "and  he  tried  his  best  at  first  to  appear  uncon 
cerned;  but  it  was  such  a  dismal  failure.  There 
wasn't  the  least  bit  of  anxiety  in  his  expression;  no, 
no;  he  was  too  sure  of  her  for  that;  but  oh,  such  in 
tense  pride!  I  really  believe  he  loved  her  for  the 
moment,  because  of  the  glory  she  was  reflecting  upon 
him.  Like  all  fine  musicians,  I  presume,  he's  of  a 
very  high  strung  temperament,  and  as  her  pure  notes 
rose  and  fell  and  rose  again,  gradually  swelling  clearer 
and  sweeter  to  the  finale,  with  all  those  many  delicate 
shadings  of  tone  and  expression  which  he  says  Mar 
garet,  more  than  any  other  pupil  he  ever  had,  has 
caught  from  him,  why  he  became  dead  to  the  world ;  he 
leaned  forward  in  his  chair  breathless,  actually 
trembling.  His  eyes  never  left  her  face;  he  seemed 


44  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  be  really  lifted  out  of  himself,  and  I  half  expected 
to  see  him  spread  wings  and  soar  away.  But  the 
funny  part  of  it  was,"  she  went  on  merrily,  "he  didn't 
seem  to  realize  that  she  had  finished,  even  when  she 
was  bowing  again  and  again  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  applause  and  accepted  flowers.  He  never  would 
have  quite  come  back  to  Earth  again,  I'm  afraid,  if 
Professor  Loquet,  who  sat  next  him — almost  equally 
entranced — had  not  leaned  over  and  exclaimed  in  a 
stage  whisper ;  'Ah,  Madamoiselle !  she  have  ze  art !  I 
congratulate  Monsieur  of  such  a  pupil !'  That  broke  the 
spell  and  poor  professor  sank  back  in  a  state  of  re 
actionary  collapse,"  finished  the  amused  girl,  laughing 
merrily  at  the  recollection. 

Her  friend's  face  was  of  course  by  this  time  covered 
with  a  most  becoming  blush ;  and  with  assumed  sever 
ity  she  remarked :  "Whatever  else  you  are  or  are  not, 
Gertie,  do  be  truthful." 

"It  is  the  truth,  every  word  of  it,"  persisted  the  girl. 
"From  where  I  sat  I  could  see  and  hear  it  all." 

"And  we  believe  every  word  of  it,  Miss  Warfield," 
put  in  their  escort,  reassuringly;  "while  your  very 
vivid  description,  by  the  way,  makes  me  realize  for  the 
first  time  what  I  missed  by  not  being  there.  We  shall 
expect  Margaret  to  make  up  for  our  loss,  shall  we  not, 
Mrs.  Nichols,  by  giving  us  some  rare  entertainment 
during  the  summer  ?  Moonlight  evenings  on  the  Lake 
with  such  music  will,  I  fear,  make  the  angels  take  to 
pausing  there,  to  doubt  if  Eden  were  more  fair;  to 
borrow  an  inadequate  simile,"  he  concluded  flatteringly. 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  45 

"O,  dear  me!  how  poetic!"  Mrs.  Nichols  laughed, 
with  good-natured  sarcasm.  "A  dreadfully  bad  sign 
though,  Mr.  Manning;  there's  no  further  doubt  as  to 
your  being  in  love;  that's  sure.  'When  a  young  man 
takes  to  rhyme,'  you  know.  There,  don't  blush !"  And 
during  the  laugh  which  followed  at  his  expense,  Mar 
garet's  mental  ejaculation  was:  "Will  in  love!  well 
that's  news  to  me!  Some  Chicago  friend  of  her's  I 
presume,  which  accounts  for  these  business  trips  there 
every  now  and  then.  O,  how  Mamma  and  I  would 
miss  him!" 

Thus,  with  lively  sallies  and  conversation  and  no 
untoward  incident  to  mar  its  pleasure,  the  two  days' 
journey  seemed  made  as  quickly  as  it  certainly  was 
enjoyably;  and  when  Clayton  Nichols  and  Harold 
Gardiner  unexpectedly  swung  aboard  their  still  moving 
train  as  it  rolled  into  the  Denver  depot,  they  found  a 
very  merry  party  of  travelers  to  welcome. 

Now,  while  Mrs.  Nichols  refrained  for  once  from 
any  embarrassing  comment,  she  nevertheless  did  not 
fail  to  note  every  detail  of  the  meeting  between 
Gertrude  Warfield  and  her  brother-in-law,  at  this  time. 
The  happy  smile  which  instantly  illumined  the  girl's 
face  at  sight  of  him,  the  tell-tale  flush  that  mounted 
to  cheek  and  brow  as  he  took  her  dainty  hand  in  both 
of  his,  and  the  conscious  look  in  her  expressive  eyes 
ere  they  were  modestly  lowered  under  his  admiring 
gaze,  were  enough  to  assure  her  that  the  match  upon 
which  she  had  determinedly  set  her  heart,  could  but 
materialize,  and  she  was  therefore  satisfied  and  happy. 


46  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Willard  Manning,  on  the  other  hand,  had  noted 
the  meeting  between  his  beloved  and  Harold  Gardiner, 
with  still  more  critical  observation  but  far  different 
emotions.  Much  as  he  longed  to,  he  could  not  flatter 
himself  that  there  had  been  any  greater  apparent 
warmth  in  the  girl's  greeting  of  himself  at  Englewood ; 
while  the  unconcealed  delight  of  the  younger  man  at 
seeing  her  again,  together  with  a  certain  undefinable 
something  in  manner  as  he  assisted  her  from  the  car, 
—which,  to  his  jealous  eye,  betokened  a  seeming  sense 
of  ownership — combined  to  disconcert  and  annoy.  But 
the  frown,  which,  unrealized  by  himself,  began  to 
settle  upon  his  face,  was  unnoticed  by  any  save  Mrs. 
Nichols,  and  as  quickly  banished  as  it  had  come,  by 
her  jocular:  "Fie,  Mr.  Manning!  haven't  you  had  her 
to  yourself  for  two  whole  days?"  uttered  in  an  under 
tone  as  the  twain  were  leaving  the  car  together. 

"Is  Mamma  down,  Harold?"  asked  Margaret,  as 
she  reached  the  platform;  and  being  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  at  once  left  her  disappointed  gallant  with 
a  hurried,  "Excuse  me,  please?"  And  with  most  un 
dignified  haste  for  her,  made  her  way  through  the 
crowded  depot  to  their  waiting  carriage  and  into  her 
mother's  outstretched  arms. 

Now,  as  Mrs.  Armstrong  had  hoped,  two  bustling 
days  following  this  arrival,  sufficed  to  complete  prep 
arations  for  the  departure  to  the  mountains,  and  to 
wards  noon  of  the  third,  probably  as  happy,  high- 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  47 

spirited  and  enthusiastic  a  party  of  pleasure  seekers 
left  Denver  as  ever  set  off  upon  similar  errand  from 
anywhere.  The  contented  happiness  at  having  her 
precious  child  again  at  home,  together  with  the  pleas 
urable  excitement  of  their  now  numerous  household — 
which  had  inevitably  communicated  somewhat  of  itself 
to  her — had  brought  a  tinge  of  color  to  relieve  the  of 
late,  extreme  pallor  of  skin;  and  this  seemingly  quick 
improvement  in  condition,  even  though  slight,  had 
tended  to  set  the  loving  daughter's  fears  at  rest,  and  to 
lift  from  her  heart  the  weight  of  anxiety  which  had 
at  first  settled  down  upon  it,  because  of  her  mother's 
sadly  changed  appearance.  Healthy  youth  is  always 
optimistic,  so  Margaret  Armstrong  was  now  full  of 
hope  for  permanently  good  results  from  this  outing 
in  her  parent's  case,  and  her  spirits  rose  to  the  occa 
sion  accordingly. 

Like  most  Western  girls  of  their  class,  both  she 
and  Gertrude  Warfield  were  fine  horse-women,  having 
learned  to  ride  when  very  young;  while  Mrs.  Nichols 
was  no  less  proficient  in  the  accomplishment,  for,  from 
early  childhood — as  our  readers  will  probably  be  not 
the  least  surprised  to  know — she  had  been  accustomed 
to  riding  Indian  fashion,  on  her  grandfather's  farm  in 
Illinois,  along  with  those  'pal  brothers.'  The  younger 
ladies  of  the  party  were  therefore  well  fitted  for  the 
two  weeks  before  them  in  the  saddle,  and  as  im 
patiently  longing  for  its  anticipated  pleasure;  while 


48  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  escort  them,  there  were  Mr.  Gardiner,  his  Son, 
Harold,  and  Clayton  Nichols,  with  Willard  Manning 
accompanying  them  for  the  first  miles,  and  cleverly 
managing  for  that  distance  to  maintain  a  coveted 
position  at  Margaret  Armstrong's  side. 

Now  it  will  require  but  a  very  slight  stretch  of  the 
imagination,  we  think,  for  the  reader  to  accurately 
picture  to  him  or  herself,  this  young  man's  feeling  of 
regret,  not  to  say  rebellion  almost,  against  the  unkind 
fate  which  necessitated  his  remaining  in  Denver  at 
this  critical  time,  and  leaving  the  girl  he  now  so  dearly 
loved  to  the  constant  and  intimate  association  of  camp 
life  with  a  rival;  and  one  whom,  the  very  short  time 
which  had  elapsed  since  her  return  home,  had  con 
vinced  him  would  be  no  half-hearted  suitor  for  her 
affections.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was  the  in 
dustrious  fellow  tempted  to  let  business  take  care  of 
itself,  and  more  than  half  regretted  that  he  had  not 
dropped  everything  and  gone  with  the  rest.  "Surely 
he  had  worked  long  and  faithfully  enough,"  he  argued 
with  himself.  "Not  for  five  years  had  he  taken  a 
vacation  at  all ;  and  if  by  such  exaggerated  devotion 
to  a  possibly  mistaken  sense  of  duty  at  this  time,  he 
should  lose  her — the  very  life  of  his  life — what  would 
it  all  amount  to  ?  Advancement  and  financial  gain  could 
mean  nothing  to  him  without  her  to  share  them." 

Thus  did  the  discontented,  fearsome  lover  contrive 
to  make  himself  quite  as  miserable  as  any  other  mere 
man  in  like  situation  would  have  done;  for  the  little 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  49 

God  of  Love  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  What  need 
less  anxiety  would  it  have  saved  him,  however,  had 
he  but  known  of  the  very  faithful  and  effective  ally 
which  he  possessed  in  Mrs.  Armstrong;  who,  while 
she  had  not  the  least  intention  of  influencing  her 
daughter  in  his  favor,  despite  her  own  preferences, 
wished  him  to  at  least  have  an  even  chance  with  any 
other  suitor,  and  greatly  astonished  herself  by  the 
adroitness  which  she  developed  in  so  handling  the 
difficult  situation  as  to  keep  her  unenlightened  daugh 
ter  and  Harold  Gardiner  most  of  the  time  apart ;  thus 
making  of  that  other  young  couple — under  the  self- 
constituted  but  truly  sympathetic  chaperonage  of  Mrs. 
Nichols — a  constant  source  of  envy  to  the  impetuous 
Harold. 

And  certain  it  is  that  these  other  two  were  being 
favored  with  a  most  auspicious  opportunity  at  this  time 
for  the  deepening  of  the  very  warm  friendship  which 
had  long  existed  between  them,  and  which  was  already 
dangerously  near  to  infringing  upon  the  border-line 
of  a  more  serious  attachment. 

Now,  as  we  have  seen  her  pictured,  Gertrude  War- 
field  was  a  being  made  essentially  to  love  and  be 
loved,  and  the  pathetic  aloneness  of  her  life  had  be 
gotten  in  the  girl  an  almost  abnormal  craving  for  some 
one  really  entitled  to  claim  and  return  her  affection. 
The  reader  must  not  make  the  mistake  of  supposing, 
however,  that  she  was  an  anaemic,  sickly-minded  miss, 
who  went  about  wearing  her  heart  upon  her  sleeve. 


50  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Far  from  it;  she  was  both  too  well  born  and  bred 
for  any  of  those  silly,  sentimental  looks,  words  or 
actions,  by  which  girls  of  weaker  natures  or  less  well 
instructed  than  herself,  frequently  make  a  premature 
or  unfortunate  revelation  of  love  to  members  of  the 
opposite  sex,  always  to  their  embarrassment  and  often 
to  their  ultimate  undoing.  But  Clayton  Nichols  was 
a  delightfully  congenial  companion,  and  in  so  far 
as  she  knew  it,  there  was  not  a  characteristic  of 
his  nature  which  did  not  appeal  to  her  admiration. 
Yet  if  she  was  at  this  time  actually  in  love  with  the 
man,  the  girl  was  scarcely  aware  of  it  herself. 

Upon  his  part,  however,  love  had  been  the  animat 
ing  spirit  prompting  his  marked  attentions  to  Gertrude 
at  their  first  meeting.  It  had  grown  with  both 
succeeding  ones,  and  now  that  she  was  out  of  school, 
he  had  no  intention  of  letting  the  summer  pass  with 
out  offering  to  her  his  heart  and  hand.  She  was  the 
girl  for  him ;  and  while  realizing  that  so  capital  a 
prize  could  not  remain  long  in  the  matrimonial 
market,  he  nevertheless  believed  himself  to  be  suffi 
ciently  persona  grata  with  her  as  to  take  precedence 
over  other  aspirants. 

His  was  too  correct  and  delicate  a  sense  of  the 
proprieties,  however,  to  incline  to  love-making  under 
such  conspicuously  vulgar  and  embarrassing  environ 
ment  as  their  present  one ;  and  even  had  he  been 
so  disposed,  such  a  course  would  have  been  ruinous 
with  a  girl  such  as  Gertrude.  All  he  asked  for  the 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  51 

nonce,  therefore,  was  to  be  much  in  her  company — of 
which  he  was  naturally  more  than  fond — and  this  the 
trip  to  the  Lake — he  had  journeyed  to  Denver  solely 
for  this  purpose — gave  him  constantly  the  most  de 
lightful  opportunities  for  enjoying,  making  of  it  for 
him  a  glorious  holiday;  in  fact,  for  them  both. 

Now  as  her  friend  had  prophesied,  the  girl's  artistic 
tastes  were  enraptured,  even  long  before  their  destina 
tion  had  been  reached;  and  when  some  particularly 
fascinating  bit  of  scenery  would  now  and  then  tempt 
her  irresistibly  down  some  trail  or  by-path  for  a  few 
moments  for  "just  one  more  sketch,"  what  more  natural 
than  that  Mr.  Nichols  should  be  the  one  who  hastened 
to  assist  her  to  dismount;  part  the  tangled  vines  and 
underbrush  that  she  might  pass  easily  and  safely 
through ;  the  only  reward  he  craved  for  such  gallantry 
being  the  privilege  of  feasting  his  eyes  upon  her  love 
liness,  even  though  apparently  forgotten  by  her  in  her 
absorption.  And  then  those  wonderful  sketches;  now 
the  girl  had  unmistakable  ability  as  an  artist;  but  for 
him,  no  Corot  or  Inness  could  compare  with  them. 

There  was,  however,  none  of  that  pre-arranged  yet 
seemingly  accidental  separating  of  these  two  from  the 
rest  of  the  party  so  often  indulged  in  by  young  people 
of  different  mold  under  like  circumstance ;  so  with 
the  six  horses  and  their  riders,  together  with  the  car 
riage,  carry-all  and  luggage  wagon  before  alluded  to, 
for  a  family  party  of  fourteen  they  surely  formed 
quite  an  imposing  cavalcade,  and  from  daylight  to  dark 


52  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

its  merriment  echoed  and  re-echoed  up  and  down  the 
mountain  side;  while  gathered  around  their  evening 
campfire,  song  and  jest  and  story  made  the  closing 
hours  of  each  day  most  jolly. 

Perfect  arrangements  for  camping  in  the  most  com 
fortable  manner,  and  the  well-planned,  easy  stages  of 
the  journey,  made  every  moment  a  delight.  The  per 
petual  sunshine,  clear,  dry  atmosphere,  and  cool,  in 
vigorating  breezes — which  combine  to  make  the  climate 
of  this,  one  of  our  most  favored  states,  famous  for 
its  health-giving  qualities  the  world  over — proved 
such  an  immediate  tonic  to  them  all,  that  the  hearty 
appreciation  of  her  efforts  as  their  appetites  increased, 
made  the  heart  of  Mary,  the  cook,  to  swell  with  pride, 
daily. 

Until  Colorado  Springs  was  reached  their  course 
lay  through  the  foothills;  for  although  the  elevation 
at  this  point  is  close  to  six  thousand  feet,  it  is  in 
reality  a  city  of  the  plains,  being  but  a  few  hundred 
higher  than  Denver,  their  starting  point. 

Now  to  a  real  lover  of  nature  there  is  always  much 
to  admire  and  enjoy,  even  in  the  foothills;  and  Mrs. 
Nichols  and  Gertrude,  those  two  members  of  the  party 
who  were  making  a  maiden  trip  into  this  superb 
region,  were  most  enthusiastic  even  before  the  actual 
ascent  had  begun.  But  it  was  not  until  a  climb  of 
a  few  miles  disclosed  to  their  view  in  the  distance 
the  towering  summits  of  the  rocky  formations  of  every 
conceivable  shape  which  form  the  noted  Garden  of  the 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  53 

Gods,  a  little  higher,  and  Colorado  City,  the  first  capi 
tal  of  the  State  could  be  distinctly  seen,  yet  a  trifle 
higher  and  Manitou  Springs — that  famous  Spa  of 
the  West,  to  whose  healing  waters  thousands  of  in 
valids  now  go  yearly — came  into  sight  nestling  mod 
estly  in  a  cleft  of  the  mountain,  that  they  began  even 
meagerly  to  imagine  the  endless  charm  and  magni 
ficence  of  the  grand  old  Rockies;  and  a  little  later 
when,  after  ascending  a  most  beautiful  canyon  through 
which  their  route  lay,  they  suddenly  discovered  below 
them,  probably  a  thousand  feet  though  but  a  few 
miles  back,  Colorado  Springs,  from  whence  they  had 
begun  the  ascent,  their  delighted  astonishment  can  be 
better  imagined  than  described.  Here  a  most  gor 
geous  sunset  claimed  their  admiration,  and  furnished 
Gertrude  another  subject. 

Two  days  of  rest,  and  with  the  next  ascent  came 
an  entirely  new  revelation.  They  had  mounted  but 
a  few  hundred  feet  higher,  when,  presto!  a  pano 
rama  of  indescribable  splendor  spread  out  before 
them.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  stretching  away 
to  the  seemingly  limitless  horizon,  were  vast  plains 
dotted  now  and  again  with  shimmering  lakes;  the 
silvery  sheen  of  whose  transparent  waters  glistening 
in  the  sunlight,  formed  a  picture  the  most  dazzingly 
beautiful. 

Thus  did  each  day,  almost  hour,  bring  some 
new  delight;  not  to  the  strangers  alone — although 
such  prodigality  of  magnificence  frequently  made  even 


54  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  ready  wit  and  tongue  of  Mrs.  Nichols,  mute,  save 
for  an  awe-struck,  'O,  if  Georgie  were  only  here !' — but 
to  them  all;  for  let  one  be  never  so  familiar  with  it, 
there  is  always  some  new  beauty,  some  new  charm 
discernible  in  mountain  scenery,  for  it  is  constant 
change. 

Another  ascent,  and  instead  of  the  scattered 
beauties  of  boundless  plain,  would  loom  the  confined, 
entrancing  glories  of  some  deep,  dark  mountain  gorge 
through  which  to  pick  their  way,  whose  massive 
granite  walls,  towering  so  high,  almost  hid  their  as 
piring  heads  in  the  clouds  above ;  while  down  their 
rugged  sides  at  frequent  intervals  fell  beautiful  cas 
cades,  descending  in  gentle,  graceful  fashion  to  feed 
the  rippling  brooks  and  streams  flowing  quietly  along 
at  their  feet,  or  leaping  and  tumbling  in  mad  haste,  to 
dash  with  angry  roar  through  boulder-filled  chasms, 
sending  their  glittering  spray  high  in  air,  then  rush 
ing  thence  to  lose  themselves  in  the  rapid  rivers. 

With  another  advance,  would  frequently  appear 
some  new  and  still  more  stupendous  exhibition  of 
Nature's  handiwork  to  hold  them  spellbound.  Aggre 
gations  of  huge  boulders,  for  centuries  untold  the 
sport  of  the  elements,  split  and  rent  by  storms  into  all 
manner  of  grotesque  shapes;  smooth,  polished  plat 
forms,  massive  domes,  gigantic  and  slender  steeples, 
arches,  castles,  battlements.  Ofttimes  hurled  together 
by  some  mighty  upheaval  in  inextricable  confusion, 
and  the  whole  frescoed  with  such  exquisite  colorings, 
so  bright,  so  rich,  so  varied,  as  if  the  angels  who  paint 


THE  JOURNEY  CONTINUED  55 

the  colors  of  the  sunset  had  tried  their  brushes  on  the 
faces  of  the  eternal  hills ;  as  one  has  so  gracefully  ex 
pressed  it. 

Again  would  their  way  lead  through  dense  primeval 
forests  of  pine  and  spruce,  every  breath  of  whose 
fragrance  as  they  drank  it  in  was  like  a  quaff  of  nec 
tar,  up  and  down  untimbered  slopes  where  the  won- 
drously  variegated  verdure  was  unspeakably  luxuriant 
and  beautiful,  or  by  crystal  mountain  torrents,  over 
swollen  creeks  and  through  winding  canyons,  until  the 
varied  charm  of  their  route  to  the  beautiful  lake  lying 
serenely  pocketed  within  its  mountainous  inclosure 
ten  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  reduced 
description  to  the  very  verge  of  penury. 

Now  there  is  not  a  spot  on  earth  where  a  sense  of 
the  infinite  variety  and  stupendous  grandeur  of  cre 
ation  arrests  the  attention,  excites  the  admiration  and 
compels  the  reverence,  more  than  this  very  section  of 
our  own  blessed  land ;  where  from  tiniest  rill  to  might 
iest  river;  from  meanest  shrub  to  most  gigantic  sen 
tinel  of  the  forest;  from  smallest  pebble  to  hughest 
boulder  and  grandest  mountain,  all,  all  proclaim,  the 
hand  that  made  us  is  divine. 

In  contemplation  of  such  immensity,  man  seems 
small  indeed  by  contrast;  yet,  in  His  infinite  love,  has 
not  the  same  Creator  bestowed  upon  him  alone — His 
crowning  work — the  genius  and  power  to  subdue  it 
all  to  his  uses,  pleasures,  profit?  *O,  that  men  would 
praise  the  Lord  for  His  goodness  and  for  His  wonder 
ful  works  toward  the  children  of  men !' 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    TRAIL A    PROPOSAL. 

"  'I  know  that  when  love  does  awaken  in  your 
heart  that  you  will  be  aware  of  it,  and  that  it 
cannot  help  but  be  for  me.»  M 

Fun  and  frolic  reigned  supreme  among  the  little 
colony  at  Lake  Sylvanus;  every  week  was  carnival 
week;  there  were  no  unoccupied,  few  quiet  and  no 
dull  moments.  One  enthusiastic  writer  in  dilating 
upon  the  climate  of  Colorado  has  said — From  July  to 
October  it  has  almost  continual  bright,  cloudless  days. 
An  air  more  delicious  to  breathe  cannot  be  found  any 
where.  It  is  neither  too  sedative  nor  too  exciting; 
but  has  that  pure,  flexible  quality  which  seems  to  sup 
port  all  one's  healthiest  and  happiest  moods.  And 
this  unexaggerated  eulogy  seemed  particularly  true 
of  this  particular  locality.  The  days  were  grand!  the 
nights  glorious! 

The  score  of  cottages  of  hewn  or  unhewn  logs, 
each  of  whose  owners  had,  in  a  spirit  of  friendly 
rivalry,  aimed  to  make  it  just  a  trifle  more  attractive 
than  its  neighbor,  detracted  no  whit  from  the  natural 
beauties  of  the  place;  so  that  whether  by  the  moon's 
bright  rays  or  the  artificial  illumination  from  the 
thousands  of  vari-colored  lanterns  with  which  porches, 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  57 

grounds,  boat  houses  and  landings  were  universally 
hung,  the  scene  by  night  was  like  an  enchanted  pic 
ture  from  fairyland. 

With  but  few  exceptions,  each  home  furnished  at 
least  one  vocalist  or  performer  upon  some  stringed 
or  wind  instrument,  so  music  and  dancing  were  there 
fore  the  chief  features  of  entertainment  by  night ;  while 
by  day,  delightful  jaunts  and  rambles  were  the  usual 
programme.  Frequently  these  excursions  were  par 
ticipated  in  by  the  women  and  children  of  the  camp 
alone,  the  men  enjoying  themselves  with  hunting  and 
fishing,  for  the  mountain  streams  abounded  in  all 
manner  of  delicious  fish,  while  game,  both  large  and 
small  was  plentiful  in  its  season;  and  it  spoke  well 
for  the  skill  of  the  sportsmen  that  the  table  of  the 
camp  was  kept  well  supplied  with  these. 

There  was  a  constant  round  of  festivities,  each  cot 
tage  furnishing  the  hostess  in  turn;  but  the  event  of 
the  season  to  which  all  were  looking  eagerly  forward 
was  the  opening  of  the  Nichols'  bungalow, — that  being 
the  only  new  addition — for  the  house-warming  planned 
for  the  occasion  by  its  hospitable  young  mistress, 
promised  to  be  a  truly  sumptuous  affair. 

Two  motives,  we  doubt  not,  impelled  her  to  this 
elaborateness;  first,  she  was  generous  to  an  extreme, 
and  loved  to  see  and  make  others  happy ;  and  secondly, 
there  was  a  childish  love  of  showing  off  strong  within 
the  woman.  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that 
she  was  yet  very  young.  Of  that  to  us,  baser  motive, 


58  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

a  desire  to  outshine,  we  doubt  if  there  was  an  atom  in 
her  make-up. 

All  sorts  of  delicacies,  regardless  of  expense,  had 
been  sent  up  in  profusion  for  the  banquet  which  she 
purposed  spreading.  The  affair,  of  course,  was  not  to 
come  off  until  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Manning.  Mrs.  Arm 
strong  giving  a  Tea  in  her  friend's  honor  in  the  mean 
time,  at  which  the  woman's  lively  wit  and  humor  made 
her  an  instant  favorite  with  her  neighbors,  a  very 
few  of  whom  she  had  met  during  her  short  Denver 
visit  of  the  winter  before;  and  it  was  unanimously 
agreed  that  little  Mrs.  Nichols  would  make  a  very 
desirable  addition  to  their  ranks. 

Now  it  was  on  the  morning  after  their  arrival  at 
the  Lake,  that  Clayton  Nichols — with  somewhat  of 
pardonable  pride — was  disclosing  to  his  sister-in-law 
the  attractions  of  her  new  place;  the  well-prepared 
croquet  ground,  pretty  little  rustic  nooks  and  arbors 
and  bridges  with  which  the  grounds  were  adorned,  the 
tempting  settees  and  reclining  chairs  with  and  without 
protecting  awnings  placed  at  frequent  intervals  in 
convenient  spots,  and  the  capacious  hammocks  swung 
between  the  noble  trees,  all  inviting  to  rest  or  enjoy 
ment,  the  arrangement  of  which  he  had  superintended 
and  to  a  large  extent  planned. 

Taking  her  last  of  all  to  the  little  wharf  where  the 
'Alice'  lay  moored  awaiting  her  pleasure,  the  sight 
of  a  second  boathouse  at  the  landing  suddenly  recalled 
to  mind  a  part  of  Margaret  Armstrong's  remarks 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  59 

while  en  route  from  Chicago,  but  which  the  excite 
ment  of  the  two  busy  days  while  in  Denver  and 
the  enjoyment  of  the  trip  up,  had  caused  her  to  forget. 
In  her  impetuous  way  she  burst  out  with :  "O,  your 
boat's  in  there,  I  suppose,  Clayt!  do  show  it  to  me! 
Margaret  told  us  about  it  and  about  your  waiting  for 
me  to  have  the  first  row  in  it.  I  think  that's  just  too 
lovely  of  you  for  anything,  brother,  and  really,  it  quite 
touched  me.  Just  imagine  how  pleased  Georgie  will 
be  to  hear  of  it.  What  have  you  named  her?  Mar 
garet  didn't  seem  to  know." 

Now  these  questions  and  request  surprised  her 
companion  almost  into  speechlessness  for  the  moment, 
for  having  told  no  one  of  his  purchase,  he  felt  quite 
at  a  loss  to  account  for  Margaret  Armstrong's  knowl 
edge  of  the  matter; — he  had  quite  forgotten  Tom,  the 
coachman's,  accidental  seeing  of  it  and  his  blundering 
excuse  for  the  deferred  launching — but  recover 
ing  himself  he  replied:  "Yes,  I  have  got  a  boat 
tucked  away  there,  Alice,  but  how  that  girl  got 
wind  of  it  in  New  York,  confound  it,  I  can't  for 
the  life  of  me  make  out.  Ordinarily,"  he  continued 
apologetically,  "you  know  I  wouldn't  refuse  any  re 
quest  of  yours ;  but  it's  a  bit  of  a  whim  of  mine" — in 
an  offhand  manner — "not  to  have  it  seen  or  its  name 
known  for  a  while  yet ;  I'm  really  very  glad  Margaret's 
knowledge  didn't  include  the  latter.  Sooner  or  later — 
it  will  depend — but  before  the  summer's  over,  I  expect 
to  launch  it  and  under  such  auspices  as  I  rather  be- 


60  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

lieve  you,  Sister,  will  approve,  even  though  you  should 
be  disappointed  about  having  the  honor  of  the  christen 
ing  row;  which,  candidly,  I  hope  you  will"  he  added, 
with  a  give-a-way  smile  he  tried  in  vain  to  re 
press.  "But  if  you  don't  happen  to  be  one  of  the  first 
party,  Alice,  you  shall  be  of  the  second,  and  I  hope 
that  will  be  satisfactory.  Don't  press  me  for  reasons, 
please,  and  then  if  you  should  be  asked  any  questions 
you  can  truthfully  say  you  don't  know." 

With  a  knowing  glance  and  smile,  the  listening 
woman  answered  quickly,  as  he  concluded :  "You  need 
have  no  fears  about  my  not  keeping  your  secret, 
brother;  I  shall  be  as  dumb  as  an  oyster  on  the  sub 
ject,  and  sincerely  hope  you  won't  ask  me  to  be  your 
companion  on  your  first  row.  Under  the  circum 
stances''  she  continued,  with  meaning  emphasis  on  the 
words, — feeling  at  once  and  with  a  pleasurable  thrill, 
that  Gertrude  Warfield  was  at  the  bottom  of  all  this 
concealment — "I'm  much  more  than  willing  to  play 
second  fiddle;  besides,  I've  my  own  boat  to  enjoy, 
you  know.  Of  course  what's  mine's  yours,  Clayton," 
she  volunteered  heartily,  "and  until  you  want  this  craft 
of  mystery  to  appear  upon  the  scene,  I  hope  you'll 
use  the  'Alice'  as  freely  as  if  she  were  your  own.  Isn't 
she  a  beauty?  I  shall  dip  those  oars  the  very  first 
thing  after  breakfast.  Thank  goodness !  There's  the 
bell  now,"  she  concluded,  with  a  delighted  start.  "Let's 
go  right  in,  for  I'm  decidedly  famished;  this  moun 
tain  air  has  given  me  a  perfectly  ravenous  appetite. 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  61 

Isn't  this  a  heavenly  morning?"  she  ran  on,  as  they 
turned  towards  the  house.  "O,  if  Georgie  were  only 
here!"  And  a  very  visible  shade  of  regret  for  her 
husband's  absence,  passed  over  the  emotional  face  of 
this  devoted  and  loving  young  wife. 

The  well-prepared,  well-served  meal  was  barely 
finished,  when  the  splashing  of  oars  and  a  repeated 
'Hoo-hoo'  from  the  Lake,  drew  the  couple  hurriedly 
to  the  windows  of  the  breakfast  room  which  faced  it, 
when  they  were  no  less  delighted  than  surprised  to 
see  the  girls,  with  Harold  Gardiner,  who  was  just  in 
the  act  of  fastening  Margaret's  boat  to  the  landing; 
and  Clayton,  all  smiles,  of  course,  rushed  down  to  the 
wharf  to  meet  them,  calling  out  gaily  as  he  went, 
"Well,  well,  this  is  surely  a  jolly  surprise  to  begin 
the  day  with!  Good  morning,  girls;  hello,  Harry; 
let  me  assist  you,  Miss  Armstrong,"  to  Margaret,  as  he 
reached  the  landing,  and  afterward  to  her  companion, 
who  followed. 

Dressed  in  a  natty  costume  of  embroidered  white 
duck  edged  with  blue,  which  set  off  the  delicate  purity 
of  her  complexion  to  perfection,  and  a  jaunty  little 
cap  to  match  which  became  the  girl  most  admirably, 
Gertrude  Warfield  certainly  did  look,  as  Margaret  had 
effusively  told  her  at  starting,  simply  sweet  enough  to 
kiss.  Never  had  she  appeared  so  bewitching  to  her 
admirer  as  now;  and  as  she  laid  her  soft,  white  hand 
in  his  and  leapt  lightly  ashore,  a  thrill  of  unspeakable 
pleasure  shot  through  the  young  man's  frame,  and  his 


62  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

heart  gave  an  involuntary  bound  as  a  vision  of  the 
proud  and  happy  day  when,  as  he  fondly  hoped,  he 
would  be  privileged  to  call  this  dainty  creature  his 
own,  flashed  before  his  mind. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nichols,  who  now  came 
running  smilingly  down  the  lawn.  "Why  didn't  you 
come  before  breakfast?  You  must  surely  have  gotten 
up  in  the  middle  of  the  night" ; — it  was  then  barely 
eight-thirty. — "I  thought  we  did  well  but  you  evi 
dently  beat  us.  But  I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you,  just 
the  same,"  kissing  them  warmly,  as  she  slipped  an  arm 
around  each  of  the  girls  and  started  for  the  house. 

"That's  pretty  nearly  what  Gertie  did,"  said  Mar 
garet,  "for  she  was  up  long  before  daylight.  I  knew 
it  would  be  that  way  as  soon  as  we  got  here;  she'd 
want  to  spend  all  her  time  sketching.  I  told  her  she 
would." 

"O,  not  all  of  it,  dear,"  protested  her  friend  sweetly ; 
"though  I  really  did  have  an  ambition  to  do  the  first 
sunrise;  and  oh,  but  it  was  grand!  I  expect  it  to  be 
one  of  the  very  best  of  my  collection.  But  what  a 
garden  spot  this  is.  I  never  saw  such  a  perfect  Para 
dise  before !  And  what  a  lovely  home  you  have,  Mrs. 
Nichols !"  as  a  partial  view  of  the  attractive  domicile 
was  obtained  through  the  branching  trees  left  standing 
to  shade  its  lawn.  "There's  only  one  objection  to  it, 
however,  and  that  can't  be  remedied,  I'm  afraid;  it's 
too  far  away  from  us."  For  the  lake  was  more  than 
a  mile  in  length,  with  their  respective  homes  at  either 
end. 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  63 

"It's  the  finest  site  on  the  whole  lake,  though,"  put 
in  the  other  girl,  "and  either  the  row  up,  or  the  ride 
or  drive  along  its  banks,  or  stroll  through  the  woods, 
will  always  hold  so  many  attractions,  that  we  won't 
mind  the  little  time  it  takes  to  get  here  either  way." 

"That's  very  true,  Margaret,"  agreed  the  older 
woman,  "and  I'm  perfectly  infatuated  with  the  spot. 
But  how  is  your  good  mother  this  morning;  and  is 
there  any  word  yet  as  to  when  Mr.  Manning  will 
arrive?" 

"Though  very  tired  of  course,  Mamma  stood  the 
trip  much  better  than  I  had  expected,"  replied  the 
girl;  "and  we  left  her  sleeping  soundly.  Our  reason 
for  coming  up  at  such  an  unearthly  hour,  was  to  bring 
you  word  that  a  letter  was  awaiting  us  from  Will, 
saying  that  he  was  going  to  be  able  to  leave  town 
sooner  than  he  supposed  and  would  start  just  one 
week  from  the  day  we  left ;  pushing  right  on  with  the 
fewest  possible  stops  by  a  short  cut  which  would 
bring  him  here  not  much  later  than  we,  probably; 
so  I  presume  he's  due  most  any  time  now." 

"Well  that's  good  news,  surely,  for  I  don't  want  to 
put  off  the  house-warming  a  day  longer  than  is  really 
necessary.  Let  me  see,"  she  meditated,  "this  is  Mon 
day,  tomorrow  is  your  mother's  Tea  for  me;  how  do 
you  think  Wednesday  evening  would  do?  Beginning 
with  today,  that  would  give  two  days  to  get  ready  in 
and  would  be  quite  enough,  I  think.  Come  here, 
Clayt,"  she  called  through  the  open  window;  for  her 


64  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

brother-in-law  had  lingered  behind  a  moment  to  show 
his  guest  a  little  over  the  grounds,  ostensibly,  though 
in  reality  to  politely  request  him  to  drop  the  subject 
of  the  two  boathouses,  for  the  present,  in  answer  to 
immediate  inquiries  as  to  the  necessity  for  them. 

"What  do  you  think  about  Wednesday,  brother?" 
she  asked,  as  the  young  men  entered  the  room. 

"What  do  I  think  about  Wednesday?  Why  that's 
all  right;  best  day  of  all,"  returned  Clayton,  glibly; 
"it's  the  one  I  mean  to  select,  same  as  you  and  George 
did.  'Monday  for  health,  Tuesday  for  wealth,  Wed 
nesday  the  best  day  of  all ;  Thursday  for  losses,  Friday 
for  crosses,  and  Saturday  no  day  at  all'  "  he  rattled  on, 
laughingly.  "Isn't  that  the  way  it  goes  ?" 

"Stop  your  nonsense  and  be  serious  for  just  about 
one  minute !"  ordered  his  sister-in-law.  "I'm  not  talk 
ing  about  a  wedding,  but  a  house-warming." 

"O,  that's  it,  is  it?"  replied  the  enlightened  young 
man.  "Well,  any  day  that's  good  enough  for  a  wed 
ding  ought  to  be  good  enough  for  a  house-warming, 
it  seems  to  me.  I  never  supposed  that  the  latter  was 
any  more  serious  a  subject  than  the  former.  Is  it? 
You  ought  to  know." 

"No,  it  isn't;  nor  half  so  serious,  either,  as  you'll 
probably  find  out  some  day  to  your  sorrow,  young 
man,"  retorted  Mrs.  Nichols.  "But  now  listen;  Mar 
garet  brings  word  that  Mr.  Manning's  apt  to  arrive 
any  hour,  so  I  think  it  will  be  safe  to  plan  our  affair 
for  Wednesday  evening,  and  we'd  better  begin  today 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  65 

to  get  ready;  don't  want  to  be  in  a  rush  at  the  last 
minute  you  know."  This,  very  emphatically.  "Will 
you  call  on  our  friends  and  invite  them,  or  shall  I  send 
John  with  written  invitations  ?  No,  that  would  be  much 
too  formal  for  the  country,"  she  decided  the  next 
second.  "You  just  drop  in  and  tell  them  how  dee- 
lighted  we  shall  be  to  welcome  them  to  Lakewood 
Lodge,  at  ye  early  candle  light,  on  Wednesday.  And 
don't  forget  to  admire  their  gardens,  Clayt,"  ishe 
charged  diplomatically,  "and  drop  a  word  about  us  not 
having  any  this  year.  I  know  there  isn't  any  one  of 
them  but  would  be  pleased  to  deluge  me  with  flowers 
for  decorating,  only  they  may  not  happen  to  think  of  it 
without  a  gentle  reminder;  see?"  She  smiled.  "Then 
tomorrow  we  can  go  to  the  woods  for  ferns,  trailing 
vines,  etc.  I've  no  doubt  there's  plenty  to  be  had, 
and  the  next  day— under  Gertie's  expert  supervision" 
she  put  in  flatteringly — "we'll  see  how  artistic  we  can 
make  the  place  look.  There's  all  those  lanterns  to  be 
hung,  too,  you  know;  that  will  keep  Mr.  Gardiner 
and  you  busy  for  a  while;  he  has  kindly  offered  to 
assist.  I  don't  think  I'd  care  to  trust  the  arrangement 
of  them  to  John." 

"Yes,"  put  in  the  hitherto  silent  caller  alluded  to, 
"I  want  to  be  as  useful  as  I  am  ornamental" ;  purpose 
ly  misquoting.  "That's  right,  isn't  it?"  as  they  began 
to  laugh. 

"No  it  isn't,"  contradicted  Margaret  Armstrong 
flatly,  "and  I  never  knew  before  that  you  were  so  in- 


66  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

sufferably  conceited,  Harold  Gardiner.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  you'll  have  to  be  a  good  deal  more  useful  than  you 
are  ornamental  if  your  help's  going  to  amount  to 
much,"  she  continued  teasingly.  "There,  don't  look  so 
distressed,"  she  hastened  to  admonish,  as  an  invol 
untary  hurt  look  flitted  across  the  young  man's  face. 
"Why  that's  the  greatest  compliment  I  could  have 
paid  you,  I  think.  One  so  seldom  hears  of  an  orna 
mental  man  being  really  useful  except  as  an  animated 
clothes  rack,  and  then  they're  so  apt  to  be  vain  besides. 
I  wouldn't  like  you  one  bit  if  you  were  that." 

"All  right,  Margaret";  and  the  young  man  smiled, 
evidently  thoroughly  pacified.  "I  accept  your  apology 
and  thank  you  for  the  compliment  and  unintentional 
pointer."  Adding,  in  an  undertone,  as  they  followed 
the  others  side  by  side  from  the  room  for  an  inspec 
tion  of  the  new  house,  "I  shall  be  a  perfect  Uriah 
Heap,  hereafter,  if  by  that  means  I  may  be  able  to 
win  your  regard." 

"Keep  it,  you  mean,  Harry,"  corrected  his  com 
panion.  "You  have  it  already." 

And  this  simply  truthful  declaration,  which  the  girl 
neither  intended  nor  imagined  would  convey  any  special 
significance,  unduly  magnified  in  importance  by  the 
anxious  though  unacknowledged  lover,  was  sufficient 
to  strengthen  anew  in  his  heart  the  hope  of  winning 
the  love  he  so  sorely  craved;  a  hope  which  had  been 
alternately  rising  and  falling  ever  since  the  girl's  re 
turn  home. 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  67 

Now  even  from  the  days  of  quite  early  childhood, 
Harold  Gardiner  had  been  buoyantly  conscious  of  an 
extreme  fondness  in  his  heart  for  Margaret  Arm 
strong;  and  as  he  grew  to  youth  and  young  manhood, 
had  always  secretly  entertained  the  sweet  hope  of  ulti 
mately  making  this  girl  his  wife.  During  the  years  in 
which  college  life  had  separated  them,  he  had  clung 
still  more  tenaciously  to  and  had  in  truth  fed  upon  this 
hope,  until  it  had  become  the  dream  of  his  life ;  the  very 
breath  of  his  longing  heart.  When  they  had  at  last 
met  again  during  their  brief  vacations  spent  at  home 
the  previous  winter,  the  long-time  fondness  had  in 
stantly  flashed  into  passionate  love.  He  had  then  ad 
mitted  to  his  mother  the  secret  which,  so  he  learned, 
she  suspected,  and  who  had  afterward  hinted  of  him 
to  Margaret's  mother  as  a  probable  suitor. 

An  alliance  between  these  two  families  would 
have  been  an  altogether  agreeable  happening  upon  both 
sides;  for  Margaret  Armstrong  would  have  been 
proudly  welcomed  as  a  daughter  by  the  Rector  and 
his  wife,  while  Mrs.  Armstrong,  on  the  other  hand, 
would  have  as  gladly  taken  Harold  Gardiner  to  her 
heart  as  a  loved  son,  had  he  been  her  daughter's  choice. 
For  personally  the  young  man  was  in  every  way  worthy 
of  the  worthy  girl,  and  in  his  chosen  profession,  med 
icine,  gave  promise  of  one  day  ranking  very  high; 
since  at  school,  at  college  and  at  the  famed  university 
from  which  he  would  take  his  degree  a  year  later,  he 


68  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

had  always  been  one  of,  if  not  the  brightest  member 
of  his  class.  But  of  an  unusually  strong,  self-reliant 
nature,  the  girl  had  always  been  much  given  to 
commanding  the  subservient  youth;  while  he  had  ap 
peared  more  than  content,  happy,  in  just  the  mere 
privilege  of  existence  as  her  willing  slave. 

Human  nature — feminine  perhaps,  especially — is 
hard  to  understand.  There  are  girls  whose  love  can 
be  won  and  only  won  by  just  such  servile  adoration  as 
had  always  been  offered  to  Margaret  Armstrong  by 
Harold  Gardiner;  but  these,  we  think,  are  usually 
girls  of  weaker  nature  whose  vain  pride  it  gratifies, 
and  whose  love,  when  given,  is  weak  accordingly. 

Had  this  clever  young  medico  been  as  well  versed 
in  the  intricate  workings  of  the  feminine  heart,  at  this 
time,  as  he  pre-eminently  was  in  the  anatomy  of  the 
human  body,  his  wooing  might  have  been  carried  on 
along  more  likely  lines.  But  then,  what  mere  mortal 
was  ever  yet  able  to  fathom  the  why  and  wherefore 
of  a  woman's  love  ? 

With  jealous  eye  he  had  noted  the  sudden  infatua 
tion  of  Willard  Manning,  and  realized  that  in  him 
would  be  found  a  sure  and  powerful  rival  for  the 
affections  of  the  girl ;  but  Mrs.  Armstrong's  fortunate 
invitation  for  the  summer  with  them  at  the  Lake,  with 
the  opportunities  which  he  foresaw  in  it  for  the  press 
ing  of  his  suit,  had  made  his  longing  heart  to  leap  for 
joy;  and  arriving  in  Denver  the  day  before  her  daugh 
ter's  return,  he  had  immediately  sought  out  the  mother 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  69 

and  asked  consent  to  the  paying  of  his  addresses.  A 
permission  which  had  been  most  graciously  given,  al 
beit,  it  is  extremely  doubtful  if  the  invitation  to  the 
Lake  for  that  particular  season,  would  have  been  ex 
tended,  had  Mrs.  Gardiner  but  have  thrown  out  her 
hint  a  trifle  sooner. 

Willard's  detention  in  Denver,  however,  seemed  a 
Providential  favoring  of  his  aspirations,  and  the  young 
man  would  have  been  scarcely  human  had  he  not  re 
joiced  at  the  occurrence.  He  determined  therefore  to 
make  the  best  possible  use  of  what  appeared  this 
Heaven-sent  opportunity,  and  which  under  slightly 
differing  circumstances  might  easily  have  proven  such. 

Now  renewed  association  with  the  girl,  by  deepen 
ing,  intensifying,  and  daily  adding  fuel  to  the  fire  of 
his  love,  had  soon  fanned  the  same  into  what  seemed 
a  veritable  consuming  flame  within  him ;  and  to  fore 
stall  his  rival,  Harold  Gardiner  determined  to  make 
known  his  sentiments  to  their  inspirer  on  the  way  to 
the  Lake,  even  at  the  risk  of  being  thought  premature 
and  perhaps  even  grossly  lacking  in  a  nice  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things. 

But  the  subtle  vigilance  of  the  mother — quickly  de 
tected  though  utterly  incomprehensible  to  him  in  view 
of  her  cordial  reception  of  his  intentions — prevented 
any  favorable  opportunity  for  such  a  course,  thus 
bitterly  disappointing  the  poor  fellow,  and  making 
of  the  journey  anything  but  the  blissful  two  weeks  of 
which  he  had  dreamed. 


70  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

And  now  this  dreaded  rival  would  soon  be  in  their 
midst  to  divide  opportunities  with  him,  to  say  nothing 
of  other  possibilities  among  the  numerous  other  eli- 
gibles  of  the  colony,  some  of  them  strangers,  but  num 
bers  of  whom,  if  not  formerly  as  intimate,  were  at  least 
as  old  friends  of  the  family ;  and  many,  he  well  knew, 
would  be  sure  to  admire  this  strikingly  beautiful  and 
accomplished  returned  daughter  of  the  house.  The 
prospect  was  indeed  a  gloomy  one. 

But  even  as  the  darkest  hours  precede  the  break  of 
day,  so  a  kinder  fate  seemed  now  about  to  lighten  the 
gloom  of  love's  night.  As  the  little  party  came  out 
upon  the  veranda  again,  Margaret  announced,  "We 
must  be  going  now." 

"Oh,  no;  stay  and  lunch  with  us — do,"  urged  their 
friend;  her  brother-in-law  putting  in  quickly,  "Yes, 
do  stay ;  what's  the  need  of  going  so  soon  ?  Let's  put 
in  the  morning  at  croquet;  I'm  anxious  to  have  a  try 
at  the  grounds." 

"Thanks,"  returned  the  thoughtful  daughter ;  "your 
invitation's  awfully  kind,  tempting  and  all  that,  but  I 
really  feel  as  though  I  ought  not  to  be  away  all  of  this 
first  morning,  for  you  know  we  got  here  too  late  last 
evening  to  do  any  unpacking  and  arranging  of  the 
little  things,  and  I  want  to  superintend  that,  and  save 
Mamma.  Then  there's  the  Tea  for  tomorrow  to  be 
arranged  for,  and  as  I  shall  no  doubt  be  wanted  to 
sing,  I  must  do  some  practicing.  We've  got  that  duet 
to  go  over  a  few  times,  you  know";  to  Harry.  "No, 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  71 

we  really  must  not  stay  this  morning,"  she  concluded. 

"Well,  of  course  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it,  Mar 
garet,  why  we  can't  insist,"  said  Mrs.  Nichols; 
although  we'd  dearly  love  to  have  you  with  us.  We'll 
excuse  you  and  Mr.  Gardiner,  but  there's  no  necessity 
of  your  going,  Gertie,"  turning  to  the  other.  "Do  stay, 
dear;"  as  the  girl  hesitated.  "Clayton  will  be  gone  all 
the  afternoon,  and  I  shall  be  dreadfully  lonely  all  by 
myself." 

There  being  no  valid  reason  to  advance  for  not  ac 
cepting  this  very  pressing — and  pleasing — invitation, 
the  young  girl  did  so ;  much,  of  course,  to  the  delight 
of  her  host,  who  immediately  challenged  her  to  a  game 
of  croquet. 

"You  won't  stand  a  ghost  of  a  show,  Mr.  Nichols," 
warned  her  friend,  "for  Gertie  was  the  champion  at 
Vassar." 

"Glad  to  hear  that,  Miss  Armstrong;  I  always  like 
to  meet  'a  foeman' — or  woman — 'worthy-  of  my  steel'," 
quoted  the  challenger,  laughing.  Then  added  mag 
nanimously,  "A  fellow  always  feels  sort  of  mean,  you 
know,  winning  a  game  from  a  lady,  anyway,  so  he'd 
rather  have  it  a  close  shave  and  be  beaten.  He  does 
hate  to  simply  give  a  game  away,  though,  for  fear 
of  offending." 

"The  only  way  you'll  offend  me,  Mr.  Nichols,  will  be 
by  not  playing  your  very  best,"  spoke  up  Gertrude, 
quickly.  "It  must  be  'a  fair  field  and  no  favors,' 
remember." 


72  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"All  right,  that's  a  go.  What  color  will  you  have?" 
he  asked,  at  once  stooping  and  opening  the  box,  which 
stood  in  a  corner  of  the  porch. 

"Blue,  please,"  replied  the  girl,  sweetly. 

"I'll  take  white,  then,  so  as  to  have  everything  in 
harmony  with  that  pretty  suit,"  ventured  the  young 
man,  with  such  an  admiring  glance  at  both  it  and  the 
wearer  as  caused  the  deep  wild-rose  tint  in  Gertrude's 
cheeks  to  instantly  take  on  a  much  richer  hue;  and 
taking  the  mallets  and  balls  Clayton  escorted  his  fair 
opponent  to  the  new  ground. 

Now  it  will  no  doubt  have  been  noticed  that  Harold 
Gardiner  had  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation  relative 
to  the  termination  of  their  call.  Whichever  way  his 
companion  should  have  decided  it  would  have  been 
eminently  satisfactory  to  him.  But  the  unlooked-for 
suggestion  that  the  other  remain  found  an  instant 
echo  in  his  heart,  and  he  waited  breathless  for  her 
decision;  his  joy  therefore  knew  no  bounds  when  the 
invitation  was  accepted. 

"Thank  Heaven !"  he  breathed,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
"The  time  has  come  at  last !  my  first,  perhaps  my  only 
chance!  may  Pandora's  evils  all  light  upon  my  un 
worthy  head  if  I  make  not  the  most  of  it!"  And  un 
heeding  the  chatter  going  on  around  him  about  the 
proposed  game,  the  young  man's  mind  at  once  became 
busy  planning  a  coup  upon  which  he  felt  all  his  future 
happiness  or  unhappiness  must  depend. 

It  was  a  serious  moment,  as  moments  upon  which 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  73 

hang  momentous  consequences  always  are  to  thinking 
men,  and  he  felt  it.  It  is  always  the  unexpected  that 
happens;  and  although  for  two  weeks  he  had  been 
endeavoring  to  find  an  opportunity  for  the  revealing 
of  his  love,  one  had  now  been  thrust  upon  him  with 
such  suddenness  as  to  be  almost  disconcerting ;  but  as 
the  girl  turned  towards  the  landing  he  asked  quickly: 
"How  would  you  like  to  leave  the  boat,  Margaret,  and 
walk  home;  it  will  be  beautiful  along  the  trail  this 
morning."  Adding,  craftily,  "and  we  can  stop  at  the 
spring  and  get  some  of  those  ferns  your  mother  was 
wishing  for  yesterday." 

"Why,  I'd  like  nothing  better,"  replied  the  girl,  with 
delightful  enthusiasm,  unsuspectingly  falling  into  the 
prepared  trap.  "I'm  so  glad  you  thought  of  it,  Harry. 
Naturally,  I  want  to  see  all  of  this  dear  old  place  as 
quickly  as  possible;  we've  had  the  lake  coming  up, 
now  let  it  be  the  woods,  by  all  means;  and  Mamma 
will  be  so  pleased  that  we  thought  of  her.  I  shall  not 
fail  to  tell  her  where  the  thanks  belong." 

"No  need  of  doing  that,  Margaret,  for  you  know 
how  blessed  it  is  to  give,"  returned  her  companion. 
And  there  was  a  double  meaning  to  his  words  as  he 
concluded  with:  "Besides,  I  expect  to  get  fully  as 
much  pleasure  in  going  for  them  as  they  can  possibly 
give  to  her." 

"But  are  you  quite  sure  you  know  the  way  by  this 
'trail'  you  mention?"  asked  their  friend,  with  feigned 
solicitude.  "It  would  be  dreadful  for  us  to  have  to 
get  out  and  hunt  for  babes  in  the  woods." 


74  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

''Have  no  fears,"  laughed  Margaret.  "The  trail's 
much  too  well  defined  for  that,  and,  anyway,  it  would 
be  next  to  impossible  for  me  to  lose  myself  anywhere 
in  these  woods.  Harry  knows  them  about  as  well,  too, 
I  fancy,  for  he  has  spent  several  summers  here  with 
us  when  we  were  children,  and  men  and  boys  never 
forget  such  things,  I  think.  Have  you  forgotten, 
Harry?"  she  queried. 

"No,  Margaret,  I  have  forgotten  nothing"  replied 
the  young  man  briefly.  And  with  a  "goodbye;  please 
bring  the  boat  down  this  evening,"  to  Mrs.  Nichols, 
and  a  "Come,  Harry,"  much  as  one  might  say,  "Come, 
Carlo"  to  a  pet  spaniel,  and  which  would  have  been 
obeyed  with  no  greater  alacrity,  the  unsuspecting  girl 
turned  towards  the  woods. 

Now,  a  fine  road  ran  along  the  bank  of  the  Lake,  but 
this  was  much  frequented,  and  Harold  had  suggested 
the  trail  because  of  its  greater  seclusion.  From  one 
to  two  feet  in  width,  it  curved  around  the  mountain, 
now  ascending,  now  descending,  through  a  thick  forest 
of  fir  and  spruce  and  pine  trees,  whose  lofty  tops 
seemed  almost  to  lose  themselves  in  the  deep  blue  sky 
overhead;  while  a  patchwork  of  mosses  of  differing 
varieties  and  shades  of  coloring  ornamented  their 
trunks  and  the  rocks  out  of  which  many  of  them 
seemed  to  have  sprung.  The  Summer  air  was  redolent 
with  their  rich,  resinous  fragrance,  and  a  soft  carpet 
of  their  thickly  fallen  needles  covered  the  ground. 
There  were  no  signs  of  animate  life  near,  but  them- 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  75 

selves,  save  for  a  lizzard  now  and  then  wriggling 
across  a  rock,  or  an  alert,  graceful  little  chipmunk 
scampering  up  and  down  a  tree  as  though  playing  hide- 
and-seek  with  itself.  The  density  of  growth,  which, 
save  in  infrequent  patches,  largely  excluded  the  sun 
light,  made  it  comparatively  dark,  and  the  only  sounds 
to  be  heard  were  the  faint,  gentle  gurgling  of  an  occa 
sional  hidden  spring  among  the  rocks,  and  the  crunch 
ing  and  crackling  of  the  dry  pine  needles  and  cones 
beneath  their  feet.  It  was  still ;  very  still. 

Amid  such  surroundings,  deep  natures,  whether  old 
or  young,  are  apt  to  be  still  also.  The  pervasive  voice 
of  mighty  Nature  seems  speaking,  and  their  ears  are 
attuned  to  catch  the  sound.  It  is  a  time,  a  place,  more 
conducive  to  thought  than  speech,  and  our  young 
friends  seemed  responsive  to  the  mood  of  all  around 
them;  there  was  therefore  but  little  attempt  at  con 
versation,  for  they  were  both  thinking. 

He,  not  as  we  fear  many  men,  possibly  the  average 
man,  would  have  done  at  such  a  time,  as  to  whether 
Margaret,  should  she  accept  him,  would  prove  all  that 
he  expected,  and  bring  into  his  heart  and  life  the 
exceeding  great  happiness  for  which  he  hoped;  but, 
au  contrairc,  whether  she  would  ever  be  disappointed 
in  him,  and  regret  her  choice;  thus  proving  the  depth, 
sincerity  and  worth  of  his  passion. 

The  result  of  this  self  communing  created  no  distrust 
of  himself  in  the  young  man;  he  could  not  doubt  the 
testimony  of  his  own  heart,  and  to  its  innermost  re- 


76  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

cesses,  its  most  unfathomable  depths,  Margaret 
Armstrong's  image  reigned  supreme  over  self. 

The  girl's  thoughts  had  been  of  love,  also,  though 
of  a  different  type — paternal  love;  for  the  trail  had 
been  a  favorite  walk  of  her  dear  father's,  and  she  was 
living  over  again  in  memory  the  happy  days  of  child 
hood,  when  during  the  long  Summers  spent  at  the 
Lake  there  had  been  scarcely  a  day  in  which  she  had 
not  accompanied  him  on  his  rambles;  her  mother, 
always  delicate,  seldom  feeling  strong  enough  for  the 
climb.  And  this  trend  of  thought,  bringing  with  it  as 
it  did  a  fresh  realization  of  their  great  loss,  but  added 
to  the  softening  and  subduing  influences  around  her, 
and  she,  too,  was  still. 

Arrived  at  the  spring,  where  the  trail  for  a  space 
widened  out  into  quite  a  pretentious  clearing,  having 
refreshed  themselves  with  the  cool,  delicious  water,  and 
gathered  the  ferns  as  planned,  they  sat  themselves 
down  upon  a  fallen  tree  to  rest ;  the  young  man  at  the 
same  stripping  from  it  a  piece  of  its  thick  bark,  which, 
with  a  few  deft  strokes  of  his  knife,  he  proceeded  to 
fashion  into  a  heart.  Turning  the  smooth  inner  surface 
towards  him,  Harold  then  slowly  and  carefully  cut 
within  its  centre  an  artistic  M,  surrounded  by  the  im 
pressive  words,  from  centre  to  circumference;  after 
which,  again  reversing  it,  and  leaning  forward  with 
elbows  resting  on  knees  and  hands  extended  before 
him,  he  sat  for  some  minutes  nervously  tapping  the 
object  with  his  knife;  still  silent. 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  77 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Harry ;  what  new  mi 
crobe  are  you  planning  to  annihilate  now?"  at  length 
asked  his  companion,  playfully;  for  the  long  and  un 
usual  abstinence  from  conversation  between  them  was 
beginning  to  wear  upon  the  girl's  nerves. 

The  tapping  instantly  ceased,  although  even  then  the 
young  man  did  not  answer  at  once;  but  after  a  few 
seconds,  altogether  ignoring  the  joking  question,  and 
without  looking  up,  he  spoke  with  great  impressive- 
ness  and  said :  "The  wealth  of  the  Indies,  no,  nor  the 
treasures  of  the  universe,  could  not  buy  my  thoughts, 
Margaret,  for  they  are  priceless  to  me ;  but  I  want  to 
give  them  to  you  freely;  may  I  ?" 

The  unusual  actions  and  manner  of  her  companion 
even  more  than  his  strange  words,  had  startled  the 
girl ;  heart  seemed  to  cease  beating  and  breath  to  stop 
for  an  instant;  and  as  though  to  escape  from  some 
impending  danger — she  knew  not  what — she  half  arose 
from  her  seat;  but  controlling  herself,  settled  back, 
and  answered  slowly  and  hesitatingly:  "Why — er — 
yes — Harry;  but  I — er  don't — know  what  you  mean." 
Scarcely  realizing  what  she  said. 

Harold  Gardiner's  temperament  was  the  ultra- 
ardent  one  which  accompanies  bright  red  hair;  and 
now,  suddenly  sitting  erect  and  facing  the  girl,  he 
burst  out  vehemently:  "I  mean  this,  Margaret,  that 
I  love  you !  love  you  with  a  passion  so  deep,  so  strong, 
so  overpowering,  that  it  is  eating  my  very  heart  out! 


78  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Young  as  we  are,  for  ten  long  years  your  sweet  image 
has  been  enshrined  there;  it  has  been  the  altar  at 
which  my  devotions  have  been  paid;  it  has  been  the 
happiness,  the  dream,  the  hope,  the  inspiration,  the 
guiding  star  of  my  life ;  beckoning  me  on  to  lofty  pur 
pose,  to  high  endeavor.  I  have  gone  to  my  tasks  in 
the  morning  with  but  one  thought:  to  do,  to  accom 
plish  something  during  the  day  of  which  you  might  be 
proud  did  you  but  know  of  it,  and  I  have  fallen  asleep 
at  night  praying  to  be  made  worthy  of  you.  My  love 
for  you  has  been  the  sunshine  of  my  life,  flooding  my 
very  soul  with  its  radiance!"  And  with  an  intense 
pleading  in  his  voice — to  which  his  vehemence  had 
given  way — he  concluded:  O,  tell  me,  Margaret,  that 
that  love  is  returned!"  His  eyes,  luminous  with  the 
fervor  of  his  passion,  now  peering  hungrily  into  hers, 
as  though  to  find  in  them,  at  least,  a  reflection  of  his 
own. 

So  great  had  been  the  girl's  surprise  at  these  im 
passioned  words  as  to  render  her  for  the  moment 
utterly  incapable  of  speech;  so  with  a  trace  of  disap 
pointment  in  look  and  voice,  though  with  no  less  of 
ardor,  the  young  man  continued:  "Do  you  hesitate, 
Margaret?  Can  it  be  that  my  heart  has  never  yet 
spoken  to  yours,  this  heart  where  you  have  so  long 
reigned  as  queen?  Have  you  forgotten  the  last  time, 
four  years  ago,  when  we  drank  at  this  spring  together, 
gathered  from  these  same  ferns,  sat  upon  this  same 
tree?  Have  you  forgotten  that  day,  Margaret?  Tell 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  79 

me,  have  you  forgotten  that  day?"  His  voice  becom 
ing  more  and  more  vibrant  with  repressed  emotion  as 
he  proceeded. 

As  her  lover  ceased  speaking  a  second  time,  Mar 
garet  Armstrong  at  last  found  voice  to  reply;  and 
with  an  unusual  tenderness  of  manner  towards  him 
she  said :  "No,  Harry,  I  have  not  forgotten  that  day, 
and  it  will  always  be  a  very  happy  memory  in  my  life ; 
we  promised  never  to  forget  each  other ;  to  be  friends 
as  long  as  life  should  last." 

"Friends,  Margaret!"  broke  in  the  young  man  fe 
verishly,  as  she  finished.  "I  spoke  only  of  friendship 
at  that  time  because  we  were  both  so  young;  but  my 
love  was  none  the  less  a  fact  even  then,  although  less 
deep  than  now,  and  the  sweet  hope  that  you  might 
have  recognized  and  secretly  responded  to  it  has  been 
the  ambrosia  upon  which  my  heart  has  fed  during 
these  four  years  of  our  separation." 

"I  shall  have  to  confess,  Harry,"  now  replied  the 
girl,  again  more  at  ease  with  him,  "that  your  words 
have  taken  me  utterly  by  surprise;  probably  that  is 
because  we  have  grown  up  together  and  you  have 
always  seemed  so  like  a  brother  to  me.  I  feel  sure  no 
brother  could  ever  have  been  kinder  or  more  devoted 
to  a  sister  than  you  have  been  to  me,  nor  have  been 
thought  more  of  in  return.  But  that  you  loved  me, 
Harry,  no,  I  had  never  detected  it;  so  your  heart 
could  never  yet  have  spoken  to  mine,  as  you  put  it." 

"But  it  will,  Margaret,  it  will!"  he  exclaimed,  im- 


80  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

petuously.  "Love  begets  love;  now  that  you  know 
how  very  dear  you  are  to  me  you  cannot  remain 
indifferent;  such  love  as  mine  will  compel  a  return." 

"Please  do  not  think  that  I  am  even  now  indifferent 
to  you,  Harry,"  replied  the  girl,  warmly.  "I  cannot 
tell  you  in  words  how  much  I  think  of  you,  how  proud 
I  am  of  you,  nor  how  highly  I  prize  your  friendship. 
I  cannot  doubt  the  sincerity  and  fervor  of  your  senti 
ment,  either,  and  I  am  surely  flattered  by  it.  Perhaps 
romantic  love  has  not  yet  awakened  in  my  heart,"  she 
ventured.  "I  love  Mamma  and  Gertie  more  than  my 
self,  I  think,  but  the  love  that  you  ask,  Harry,  I  do  not 
seem  to  fully  comprehend." 

"Thank  you  for  that  acknowledgment,  Margaret," 
returned  the  relieved  lover,  fervently;  "you  don't 
know  what  a  load  it  has  taken  from  my  mind,  for  I 
was  afraid  your  affections  might  already  have  been 
centered  elsewhere.  But  since  they  are  not  I  can 
afford  to  wait,  for  I  know  that  when  love  does  waken 
in  your  heart  you  will  be  aware  of  it,  and  that  it 
cannot  help  but  be  for  me." 

"Does  Mamma  know  of  this,  Harry?"  suddenly 
asked  the  young  girl. 

"Certainly,  Margaret;  you  surely  could  not  think 
me  so  lacking  as  to  address  you  without  her  permis 
sion.  I  called  upon  her  the  day  before  your  return, 
and  was  received  with  all  the  sweet  graciousness  of 
which  you  know  her  to  be  capable.  Her  permission 
was  given  without  the  least  hesitation." 


THE  TRAIL— A  PROPOSAL  81 

"Our  having  had  so  few  moments  together  alone, 
since,  accounts  for  her  not  having  told  me  of  it,  no 
doubt,"  returned  Margaret.  "I  know  she  thinks  the 
world  and  all  of  you,  Harry,  and  if  you  win  my  love 
you  will  be  sure  of  hers  also.  But  now  we  must  not 
linger  any  longer  in  this  sweet  spot,  which,  believe  me, 
Harry,  will  be  doubly  dear  to  me  hereafter.  Please 
do  not  refer  to  this  matter  again  for  the  present, 
though,'  she  requested,  gently,  "but  give  me  time  to 
become  acquainted  with  myself;  and  remember, 
always,  that  you  at  least  have  my  very  highest  regard 
and  esteem." 

As  the  girl  concluded,  her  eye  fell  upon  the  heart 
which  had  been  cut  from  the  bark,  but  which  in  his 
agitation  had  fallen  from  the  ardent  wooer's  hand  un 
noticed.  Stooping  quickly  she  picked  it  up ;  and  as  her 
eye  read  the  moving  message  which  it  contained,  there 
was  a  noticeable  catch  in  the  lowered  voice  as  she 
added:  "And  this  emblem  of  my  sovereignty  over 
your  heart  will  be  one  of  my  treasures  henceforth." 

With  a  hopeful  and  therefore  happy  smile,  though  as 
yet  unaccepted,  the  always  accommodating  lover  re 
plied,  in  answer  to  her  request  for  further  time,  "It 
shall  be  as  you  wish,  Margaret,  and  until  I  have  your 
love  I  will  hold  your  regard  and  esteem  of  first  import 
ance."  Then  quickly  possessing  himself  of  his  loved 
one's  hand  he  pressed  upon  it  a  passionate  and  truly 
worshipful  kiss;  after  which,  gathering  up  the  ferns 
which  lay  at  their  feet,  he  followed  her  slowly  down 
the  trail. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

JACK  LINDSAY. 

"  'This  is  my  Brother  Jack,  who  has  been  just 
dying  to  meet  you.'  " 

The  Nichols  place — which  these  two  had  just  left — 
adjoined  that  of  the  Lindsays,  who,  being  very  close 
friends  of  Mrs.  Armstrong,  had  been  among  the  few 
invited  by  her  to  meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Nichols 
while  her  guests  the  previous  Winter. 

Now  the  Lindsay  family  consisted  of  the  Doctor,  his 
wife,  and  their  two  grown  children,  Jack  and  Hattie. 
Like  that  of  our  heroines,  the  higher  education  of  the 
latter  had  been  gotten  at  Vassar;  and  it  having  been 
completed  but  a  year  sooner,  she  and  Gertrude  War- 
field  were  of  course  intimately  acquainted  with  each 
other.  Born  and  bred  in  the  same  sphere  of  life,  with 
the  same  instincts,  ideas,  ideals  and  aims,  the  two  were 
of  thoroughly  congenial  natures,  and  as  Art  had  been 
the  specialty  of  both,  this  similarity  of  taste  and  talent 
had  naturally  been  an  additional  bond  between  them. 
Margaret  and  this  girl  had  been  playmates  in  child 
hood,  the  intimacy  going  on  uninterruptedly  to  the 
present  time ;  and  she  was  looking  forward  with  much 
pleasure  to  a  share  in  Gertrude's  companionship,  now 


JACK  LINDSAY  83 

that  the  girl  was  to  become  a  member  of  the  Arm 
strong  household. 

Mrs.  Lindsay,  an  artist — amateur — of  no  mean 
ability  herself,  had  seen  her  talent  inherited  by  her 
children,  with  extreme  gratification;  the  son,  Jack, 
in  fact  having  chosen  Art  as  his  profession.  This 
young  man  was  now  at  home,  enjoying  a  first  vacation 
after  two  years  of  hard  study  abroad,  which  had  fol 
lowed  a  number  previously  spent  in  pusuit  of  the  same 
line  under  the  most  competent  instruction  to  be  had 
at  home ;  and  brother  and  sister,  devotedly  attached  to 
each  other,  were  often  to  be  seen  seated  by  the  road 
side  or  perched  upon  a  convenient  rock,  transferring 
the  beauties  and  wonders  of  sky  or  landscape  to  sketch 
book  or  canvas. 

A  young  man  of  nearly  twenty-six,  Jack  Lindsay 
was  as  handsome  a  fellow  as  one  need  care  to  meet; 
with  a  delicately-tinted,  olive  complexion  that  any 
girl  might  have  envied  him.  In  fact,  their  friends  had 
always  said  that  it  should  by  right  have  belonged  to 
the  sister,  who  was  an  extremely  plain-looking  girl, 
and  not  at  all  favored  either  as  to  texture  or  coloring 
of  skin.  His  wealth  of  wavy  hair  was  almost  black, 
his  eyes  very  dark  blue;  of  that  dreamy,  langorous 
sort  which  bespeak  the  artistic  temperament.  Affable 
and  gentlemanly  mannered,  deferential  almost  to  ten 
derness  in  his  address  toward  women,  Jack  Lindsay 
was  sure  of  a  warm  welcome  in  society  everywhere. 

From  out  the  windows  of  his  room — for  he  had  not 


84  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

yet  taken  on  the  early-rising  habits  indulged  in  by  the 
rest  of  the  family  when  at  the  Lake — the  young  man 
had  seen  the  boat  containing  our  girls  and  Harold 
Gardiner  go  by  and  tie  up  at  the  Nichols'  wharf ;  and 
as  he  and  his  sister  were  breakfasting  together, — for 
the  girl  would  never  allow  her  loved  brother  to  take 
his  meal  alone, — he  remarked  casually,  "You've  met 
our  new  neighbor,  Mrs.  Nichols,  haven't  you,  Sis?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply ;  "when  she  was  visiting  Mrs. 
Armstrong  last  Winter.  She's  one  of  the  brightest, 
jolliest  little  women  imaginable,  and  I'm  so  glad 
they've  built  up  at  our  end  of  the  Lake,  for  one's  sure 
to  have  a  lively  time  when  she's  around,  I  tell  you. 
But  why  do  you  ask,  Jack?" 

"Because  I  want  you  to  take  me  over  there  when 
we've  finished.  Margaret  and  Harry  have  just  gone 
up,  and  your  friend,  Miss  Warfield,  I  presume  it  was. 
My,  but  she's  a  picture!  and  what  a  beauty  Margaret 
has  grown,  too !  Why,  I'd  hardly  have  recognized  her 
anywhere  else." 

"But  don't  tell  her  so,  Jack,  for  goodness  sake!" 
cautioned  his  sister,  laughingly.  "She  might  think  it 
a  doubtful  compliment ;  I  mean  about  the  great  change 
in  her  appearance.  She  certainly  is  wonderfully  hand 
some  now,  but  it's  only  a  couple  of  years  since  she 
began  to  improve,  and  then  it  all  came  so  suddenly.  I 
was  with  her  at  school  at  the  time,  and  in  a  few  months 
you  wouldn't  have  recognized  her  for  the  same  girl. 
I  think  she  used  to  be  almost  as  homely  as  /  am,  so 
perhaps  there's  hopes  for  me  yet." 


JACK  LINDSAY  85 

"Tut,  Sis,  you're  not  homely;  I  see  millions  of 
worse-looking  girls  than  you  every  day,  and  none  that 
I'd  be  so  proud  to  call  my  sister;  I  wish  that  I  could 
take  you  back  with  me." 

'Thanks,  Jack,"  smiled  the  complimented  girl,  ap 
preciatively ;  "and  O,  how  I'd  love  to  go!  but  of 
course,  Papa'd  never  consent  to  such  a  thing.  But  what 
were  we  talking  about?  O,  yes;  Margaret.  Well, 
she's  just  the  same  dear,  old,  charming  self  that  she 
always  was,  and  you'll  like  her  as  much  as  ever.  She 
sings  exquisitely,  too.  But  I  don't  really  think  we'd 
better  go  over  this  morning,  Jack,"  she  added  per 
suasively.  "Mrs.  Nichols  only  got  here  last  evening, 
you  know,  and  I  hardly  feel  well  enough  acquainted 
with  her  to  run  in  immediately  for  a  morning  call." 

"O,  fudge!"  returned  the  brother;  "it'll  be  all 
right;  everything's  informal  here;  that's  the  great 
beauty  of  the  place.  You  can  just  say  that  I  saw  my 
old  playmates,  Margaret  and  Harry,  go  by,  and  as  I 
hadn't  seen  them  for  so  long  couldn't  resist  the  tempta 
tion  to  run  over  and  say  'howdy'  to  them.  You  can 
apologize,  and  all  that,  if  you  think  it's  necessary. 
But  who  is  this  Miss  Warfield?"  he  concluded  care 
lessly,  while  replacing  his  napkin  in  its  ring. 

"Why,  she's  Margaret's  chum,  Jack,"  answered 
Hattie;  "the  dearest,  sweetest  little  creature,  and  the 
most  unselfish  that  ever  lived.  Everybody  loves  her; 
some  way  she  seems  to  slip  right  into  their  hearts  at 


86  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

once.  You  didn't  exaggerate  a  bit  when  you  called 
her  'a  picture,'  either,  and  she's  talented,  too,  and  rich 
beside,  though  just  as  simple  and  unaffected  as  if  she 
hadn't  a  penny  to  her  name.  But  then  she  comes  of 
excellent  family,  which  accounts  for  that.  She  was 
the  only  child  of  the  late  Judge  and  Mrs.  Warfield,  of 
Omaha ;  her  father  was  one  of  the  most  noted  lawyers 
of  the  West,  you  know.  He  died  soon  after  she  came 
to  college,  and  she  lost  her  mother — a  Southerner — 
when  she  was  born,  poor  girl.  She  and  Margaret  are 
like  sisters  to  each  other,  and  as  she's  alone  in  the 
world,  she's  going  to  make  her  home  with  the  Arm 
strongs  hereafter.  I  shall  enjoy  her  companionship 
immensely,  particularly  as  our  talents  lie  in  the  same 
direction.  Gertie  did  some  very  good  work  even  while 
I  was  at  school  with  her,  and  has  no  doubt  vastly 
improved  since  then  ;  I  want  you  to  see  some  of  it. 
I  mean  to  have  her  spend  at  least  a  week  here  with  us 
before  we  go  down." 

Now  this  seemingly  extravagant  eulogy  of  her 
friend  by  his  sister  had  not  fallen  upon  deaf  ears, 
by  any  means,  although  the  young  man  made  no  com 
ments;  but  as  she  finished,  he  pushed  back  his  chair 
and  asked — as  though  their  making  the  proposed  call 
were  a  foregone  conclusion, — "Well,  how  soon  shall 
we  start,  Sis?" 

"O,  Jack,  I  know  Mamma  won't  at  all  approve  of 
our  being  quite  so  premature,"  protested  the  girl.  "But 
if  you're  really  determined  to  go,"  she  finally  ac- 


JACK  LINDSAY  87 

quiesced,  "why,  we'd  better  get  away  before  she 
comes." 

"All  right;  let's  vamoose,  then,  for  I  hear  wheels," 
returned  her  brother;  jumping  hastily  up  and  making 
for  the  hall. 

"Sure  they're  not  in  your  head,  Jack?"  joked  his 
sister,  stopping,  however,  and  assuming  a  listening 
attitude  as  she  spoke. 

"Not  by  a  jugful!  There,  what  do  you  call  that?" 
her  companion  queried,  as  a  distinctly  grating  sound 
fell  upon  their  ears  from  the  graveled  road.  "Here, 
skip!"  said  he,  thrusting  upon  her  the  parasol,  which 
with  one  hand  he  had  taken  from  the  rack,  while  with 
the  other  he  grabbed  his  own  Panama.  And  making 
their  exit  through  a  side  door,  the  two  rounded  the 
rear  corner  of  the  house  much  after  the  manner  of  a 
couple  of  guilty  little  children,  just  as  the  parents, 
returning  from  a  regular  morning  constitutional,  drove 
up  to  the  carriage  block  in  front. 

Now,  having  returned  to  the  house  for  a  chat  upon 
paper  with  her  absent  husband  immediately  after  the 
departure  of  Margaret  Armstrong  and  her  rejoicing 
lover,  Mrs.  Nichols  was  in  the  act  of  crossing  the 
spacious  hall  to  her  own  apartments  for  that  purpose, 
just  as  the  runaways — who  had  crossed  the  few  rods 
of  lawn  separating  their  respective  homes  in  almost 
less  time  than  it  would  take  to  record  the  fact— stepped 
upon  the  veranda.  Staying  her  steps  for  an  instant  to 
see  who  the  newcomers  might  be,  she  at  once  recog- 


88  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

nized  the  girl ;  and  in  her  whole-hearted  way  hastened 
to  the  door  to  greet  them. 

"Why,  Miss  Lindsay!  how  delighted  I  am  to  see 
you !  come  in,  come  in !"  shaking  hands  with  both — as 
the  girl  presented  her  brother — in  that  hearty  school 
boy  fashion  peculiarly  her  own,  which  charmed  Jack 
Lindsay,  and  at  once  established  a  feeling  of  camar 
aderie  between  the  two. 

"I  feel  that  we  owe  you  a  thousand  apologies,  Mrs. 
Nichols,"  said  Hattie,  as  they  followed  the  lady  into 
the  living  room. 

"What  for,  pray?"  was  the  surprised  inquiry. 

"Why,  for  calling  so  soon,  for  one  thing,  and  so 
early  in  the  day  besides.  But  we're  simply  a  pair  of 
runaways ;  Mamma  never  would  have  let  us  be  quite 
so  informal  if  she'd  been  at  home.  Jack  just  insisted 
on  coming,  however,  and  as  he's  company,  why,  I  had 
to  humor  him.  He's  grown  such  a  Bohemian  since 
he's  been  away  from  home  that  there's  no  keeping  him 
to  the  proprieties  any  more,  at  all,"  replied  the  girl, 
with  a  reproving  look  at  her  insistent  brother. 

"I  plead  guilty  to  the  charge,"  confessed  the  young 
man,  with  mock  contrition,  "and  can  only  hope  for 
our  friend's  indulgence;  which,  somehow,  I  feel  quite 
certain  will  be  granted.  But  honestly,"  he  continued, 
"that's  the  great  charm  about  Bohemia — its  lack  of 
conventionality,  which  at  least  posseses  the  saving 
grace  of  keeping  its  denizens  from  becoming  a  mere 
menagerie  of  parrots  and  apes." 


JACK  LINDSAY  89 

"You're  a  man  after  my  own  heart  exactly,  Mr. 
Lindsay;  shake!"  returned  their  young  hostess,  with 
great  animation,  extending  her  hand,  heartily, — they 
were  seated  very  near  each  other, — "and  I  hope  my 
neighbors  will  have  no  greater  drain  upon  their 
indulgence  in  respect  to  me  before  the  season's  over 
than  I  feel  you  to  have  been  upon  mine  this  morning. 
I'm  almost  sure  to  do  something  unconventional.  So 
cial  etiquette — much  of  it,  at  least— is  so  awfully  tire 
some  to  me;  simply  bores  me  to  death.  I  think  it 
makes  us  such  a  lot  of  hypocrites,  and  utterly  uninter 
esting,  by  robbing  us  of  our  individuality.  Why  when 
every  one  lives  by  rote  you  know  just  what  to  expect 
all  the  time,  and  so  lose  your  interest  in  them.  I  like 
people's  actions  to  be  an  expression  of  themselves; 
not  as  though  we  were  all  cut  out  by  the  same  pattern," 
she  went  on,  with  much  vigor,  "from  the  same  piece  of 
calico ;  I  like  the  vim,  the  spice  of  life  that  comes  from 
variety." 

"Still,"  asked  the  practical  Hattie,  "would  we  really 
want  every  one  we  come  in  contact  with  to  feel  free  to 
say  and  do  everything  they  thought  of  or  wished  to? 
Mamma  says  that  the  fixed  rules  of  society  keep  much 
selfishness  in  check." 

"Of  course,  there's  two  sides  to  the  question,"  as 
sented  their  hostess,  graciously,  "and  as  we've  got  to 
bow  to  its  dictates,  whether  or  no,  why  we  might  as 
well  swallow  our  objections  with  a  good  grace,  I 
suppose,  as  to  be  compelled  to  gulp  them  down  like  our 


90  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Spring  doses  in  childhood.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
scenes,"  she  laughed,  reminiscently,  "that  would  always 
follow  Mamma's  leading  me  to  the  lavatory  in  the 
nursery,  with  her  cupful,  never  less,  of  the  nauseat 
ing  stuff.  I  can  hear  her  yet,  as  plainly  as  though  it 
were  but  yesterday,  after  the  most  patient  coaxing, 
bribing  and  threatening  by  turns,  finally  declare,  'Now, 
Alice,  there's  no  use  making  any  more  fuss;  it's  got 
to  go  down;  here,  let  me  hold  your  nose!'  and  with 
a  terrific  sputtering  and  gagging,  all  that  I  had  not 
succeeded  in  pouring  down  the  drain  while  her  unsus 
pecting  back  was  turned,  would  at  last  be  forced  down 
my  unwilling  throat.  But  how  is  your  good  mother, 
and  the  Doctor,  your  father?  We  did  so  enjoy  meet 
ing  them  last  Winter." 

"Both  very  well,  indeed,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Nichols," 
replied  the  son ;  adding  gallantly,  "and  looking  forward 
with  much  pleasure,  I  assure  you,  to  having  such 
a  desirable  and  charming  neighbor." 

"Very  lovely,  indeed,  Mr.  Lindsay," — the  lady  smiled 
in  appreciation  of  the  neatly  turned  compliment — "and 
I  hope  their  pleasure  may  be  only  second  to  my  own 
in  receiving  them  here,  as  I  hope  to  have  the  great 
pleasure  of  first  doing  on  Wednesday  evening; 
though  one  drawback  to  my  happiness  and  thorough 
enjoyment  of  the  occasion  will  be  my  husband's  ab 
sence;  that  he  is  not  here  to  do  the  honors  and  share 
the  pleasure  with  me.  Mr.  Manning,  whom  we  are 
waiting  for,  is  expected  by  that  time;  the  girls  have 
been  up  to  tell  us  so  already  this  morning." 


JACK  LINDSAY  91 

"Yes,"  put  in  Hattie,  "Jack  saw  them  pass."  But, 
checked  by  her  knowledge  and  observance  of  'social 
etiquette/  she  refrained  from  adding  that  their  uncere 
monious  call  was  altogether  due  to  that  fact,  and  not 
to  an  excessive  neighborliness  upon  their  part,  as  their 
hostess  evidently  found  much  pleasure  in  supposing. 

"I  tried  to  keep  them  for  luncheon,"  Mrs.  Nichols 
resumed,  "but  Margaret  feared  her  mother  would 
over-do  if  she  stayed,  so  she  and  Mr.  Gardiner  left 
just  a  little  before  you  came." 

"Why,  I  didn't  notice  any  one  on  the  lake,"  said  the 
girl.  "Did  you,  Jack?" 

"O,  they  walked  back,"  volunteered  the  other,  with 
out  waiting  for  the  young  man  to  reply ;  "went  by  the 
trail,  if  you  know  where  that  is.  But  Miss  Warfield's 
still  here;  you're  acquainted  with  her,  aren't  you?" 

"Well,  rather,'  replied  Hattie,  smiling.  "That  is,  / 
am.  We  were  at  school  together  for  three  years,  so 
I  know  well  just  what  a  darling  Gertie  is,  and  I'm 
very  anxious,  of  course,  to  have  my  brother  meet  her." 

"Shall  we  join  them,  then?"  asked  Mrs.  Nichols. 
"She  and  my  brother-in-law  are  having  a  game  around 
on  the  lawn." 

Now,  it  was  for  just  some  such  turn  in  the  conver 
sation  that  Jack  Lindsay  had  been  most  devoutly  wish 
ing  ever  since  their  arrival.  Rising  at  once,  he  put  in 
heartily,  "By  all  means,  Mrs.  Nichols ;  and  it's  shame 
fully  thoughtless  of  us  to  have  kept  you  indoors  this 
lovely  morning.  I  do  hope  you'll  pardon  us." 


92  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"O,  don't  worry  about  that,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  was  the 
comforting  reply,  as  they  left  the  house  in  compliance 
with  his  action.  "I  meant  to  stay  in,"  she  continued, 
with  her  usual  frankness,  "and  devote  the  morning  to 
Georgie" — Mr.  Nichols,  she  paused  to  explain, — "so 
you  haven't  kept  me  in  at  all." 

"Well,  then,  we  owe  the  apology  to  Mr.  Nichols  for 
having  kept  you  from  him;  is  that  it?"  asked  the 
young  man,  laughing. 

"To  no  one;  I  have  all  the  afternoon  for  writing, 
and  wouldn't  have  missed  your  call  this  morning  for 
anything,"  returned  their  hostess,  with  great  cordiality. 

"I  suppose  it's  billiards  gone  to  grass,  that  we're  to 
see,"  ventured  Jack,  as  they  walked  along. 

"Yes,  but  not  to  seed,"  was  the  quick  rejoinder.  "I 
thing  it's  far  too  popular  a  game  for  that,  ever,  don't 
you?  I  hope  you'll  both  come  over  and  play  with  us 
very  often." 

"Thanks;  we  will,"  replied  the  sister,  heartily. 
We're  both  fond  of  it,  and  I'd  be  much  more  so,  even, 
if  I  could  ever  get  to  putting  up  a  half-way  decent 
game.  "O,  Gertie  dear!"  she  burst  out — they  had 
by  this  time  reached  the  croquet  field — "I'm  awfully 
glad  to  see  you  once  more ;" — rushing  forward  and  half 
smothering  her  friend  with  kisses,  in  the  true  school 
girl  fashion  which  she  had  not  yet  outgrown.  "This 
is  my  brother,  Jack,  who  has  been  just  dying  to  meet 
you ;" — with  a  mischievous  look  in  his  direction,  for 
she  had  read  him  like  a  book — "Miss  Warfield,  Jack." 


JACK  LINDSAY  93 

Now,  in  any  one  possessed  of  far  less  claim  to  beauty 
than  his  sister's  attractive  young  friend,  Jack  Lindsay's 
artistic  eye,  trained  to  discover  even  hidden  perfec 
tions,  might  probably  have  found  much  to  admire. 
But  if,  in  the  hasty  glimpse  which  he  had  obtained  of 
her  in  the  passing  boat  a  few  hours  earlier,  Gertrude 
had  seemed  to  him  'a  picture,'  the  vision  of  extreme 
loveliness  which  he  now  beheld  at  close  range  for  the 
first  time,  bewildered,  dazzled  him.  He  felt  his  sister's 
description  to  have  been  wholly  inadequate;  a  most 
feeble  portrayal  of  such  myriad  charms.  The  girl  was 
at  once  a  dream;  a  poem;  the  light,  the  fragrance, 
the  softness  of  the  hour.  So  fresh  and  fair,  she 
seemed  to  him  the  very  epitome  of  a  Spring  morning  ; 
full  of  all  the  gentle  charm  and  promise  of  sweet, 
young  life.  So  enamored  was  he, — for  'whoever  loved 
that  loved  not  at  first  sight' — that  his  usual  sang  froid 
entirely  forsook  him;  and  it  was  with  a  very  evident 
show  of  embarrassment,  both  to  the  surprise  and 
amusement  of  his  sister,  that  he  bent  over  the  proffered 
hand  and  murmured  his  acknowledgments  of  the  intro 
duction.  He  had  come,  and  seen,  and  he  was — 
conquered. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  MORNING  GAME. 

"'Well,  'twas  a  glorious  victory'!  declared 
Jack  coming  quickly  up  the  field  to  shake  hands 
with  his  opponents." 

From  long  acquaintance  with  his  brother's  de 
voted  wife,  Clayton  Nichols  understood  perfectly 
what  a  weighty,  lengthy  matter  a  letter  to  Georgie 
always  was;  why,  her  postcripts  alone  would  fill  vol 
umes, — he  was  wont  to  declare,  teasingly — even  under 
ordinary  circumstances;  and  now,  with  so  much  in 
teresting  data  incident  to  the  trip,  the  place,  et  cetera, 
to  give  him,  there  was  no  telling  when  the  precious 
epistle  would  be  finished.  "Certainly  not  before  lunch 
time,"  he  congratulated  himself,  gleefully,  as  their  fair, 
young  guest  accepted  the  invitation  to  remain;  and 
his  heart  reveled  in  the  prospect  of  a  whole  morning  of 
companionship  alone  with  this  sweet  girl,  hourly  be 
coming  more  dear  to  him.  His  feelings,  therefore, 
would  perhaps  be  better  imagined  than  described  when 
the  trio  before  referred  to  made  their  advent  upon  the 
scene.  Not  to  mince  matters,  the  intrusion  upon  their 
tete-a-tete  could  not  possibly  have  been  more  disagree 
able  and  unwelcome  to  the  young  man  than  it  was. 
But  the  'fixed  rules  of  society/ — which,  according  to 


A  MORNING  GAME  95 

one's  opinion,  as  we  remember,  makes  us  such  a  lot 
of  hypocrites,  to  another's  keeps  much  selfishness  in 
check — required  a  gracious  reception  of  his  sister-in- 
law's  guests;  and  his  manner  was  therefore  the  quin 
tessence  of  cordiality  as  he  came  forward  to  greet 
them. 

There  was  no  need  of  further  introductions,  for  the 
rest  of  the  party  had  all  met  before ;  so  after  the  usual 
handshakings,  'so  pleased,'  et  cetera,  had  been  indulged 
in,  Jack,  whose  equilibrium  was  by  now  quite  restored, 
expressed  the  polite  hope  that  they  were  not  interrupt 
ing  the  game. 

"O,  not  at  all !"  replied  their  host.  "We  had  just 
finished  a  sort  of  practice  game,  and  to  dedicate  the 
ground,  which,  by  the  way,  isn't  half  bad.  Join  us, 
won't  you?  I  feel  sure  Miss  Warfield  will  be  as 
pleased  to  have  you  do  so  as  myself;" — which  latter 
assertion,  truthfully  interpreted,  would  have  read,  not 
at  all. 

"I  shall  be  simply  delighted,"  put  in  the  young  girl 
warmly.  "It  will  seem  like  old  times  to  have  a  game 
with  you  again,  Hattie." 

"But  I  haven't  improved  one  bit,  Gertie,"  returned 
her  friend,  modestly  hesitating  to  accept,  "and  I'm 
afraid  I'll  only  spoil  the  game  for  the  rest." 

"O,  no  you  won't;  you'll  have  Mr.  Nichols  for  a 
partner,  and  he's  such  a  magnificent  player,  that  he'll 
carry  you  right  along  to  victory." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  you're  both  awfully  kind,"  returned 


96  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  girl.  "Shall  we  play,  Jack?"  now  turning  to  her 
brother  for  approval;  who,  though  apparently  ab 
sorbed  for  the  moment  in  the  nice  things  he  was  say 
ing  to  Mrs.  Nichols  about  her  house  and  its  surround 
ings,  had  lost  not  a  word  of  the  conversation  between 
the  others,  and  had  moreover  been  elevated  to  the 
seventh  heaven  by  Gertrude's  implied  selection  of  him 
self  as  a  partner  for  the  proposed  game ;  even  daring 
to  indulge  the  ungrounded  hope  that  the  wish  might 
have  suggested  the  thought. 

"Don't  think  of  refusing,  Sis !"  was  the  emphatic 
answer.  "Such  tempting  invitations  are  far  too  much 
like  angel's  visits  for  that."  Then,  with  an  opportune 
recollection  of  the  requirements  of  good  breeding,  he 
offered  quickly,  "But  won't  you  take  my  place,  Mrs. 
Nichols?" 

"O,  no;  take  mine,  please,"  put  in  his  sister,  gen 
erously.  "It  will  be  so  much  more  interesting  a  game 
if  you  will,  I  know." 

"Neither,  thanks,"  refused  their  hostess,  politely, 
but  with  a  decisiveness  which  brooked  of  no  further 
urging,  and  a  silencing  nod  to  Gertrude,  who  was  be 
ginning  in  the  same  strain.  "Now  that  I  have  you  all 
off  my  hands,"  she  added,  jokingly,  "I  shall  try  to 
carry  out  my  good  intentions  of  the  morning.  There's 
a  certain  road  paved  with  such,  you  know,  but  /  aim  to 
furnish  as  few  of  the  cobbles  as  possible.  Ta-ta ;  enjoy 
yourselves !"  finished  the  hospitable  little  woman,  gra 
ciously,  as  she  turned  and  tripped  gaily  back  to  the 
house. 


A  MORNING  GAME  97 

A  convenient  hammock  had  already  tempted  Miss 
Lindsay  to  a  moment's  loll;  and  as  their  host  excused 
himself  and  returned  to  the  porch  for  the  additional 
paraphernalia  needed,  Jack,  in  his  most  fascinating, 
courtly  way,  motioned  his  sister's  friend  to  a  near-by 
settee,  saying,  "Do  rest  a  moment,  Miss  Warfield;" 
and  blessing  his  lucky  stars  for  so  favoring  an  oppor 
tunity,  with  a  deferential,  "may  I  be  permitted?"  took 
his  place  beside  the  girl,  and  opened  the  conversation 
by  remarking  that  he  was  pleased  to  learn  of  her  in 
terest  in  Art.  "Sister  and  I  spend  a  good  deal  of  time 
with  Nature,"  said  he,  "and  I  hope  you  will  favor  us 
with  your  company  on  many  of  our  rambles;  there's 
no  lack  of  subjects  around  here." 

"And  exquisite  ones,  too !"  added  the  girl,  her  beau 
tiful  face  lit  with  enthusiasm  at  once,  for  this  was  a 
favorite  topic.  "It's  the  most  entrancing  spot  I  ever 
was  in,  without  a  single  exception;  and  the  trip  up 
was  the  treat  of  a  lifetime.  I  have  quite  a  portfolio 
of  sketches  already,"  she  informed  him,  "and  I  think 
the  crowning  one  was  the  sunrise  of  this  morning;  it 
was  perfectly  grand!  Thanks  for  your  kind  invitation, 
Mr.  Lindsay;  I  shall  certainly  be  most  happy  to  ac 
cept." 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you're  such  an 
early  riser  as  all  that,  Miss  Warfield?"  ejaculated  her 
companion,  in  feigned  horror. 

"O,  it's  not  habitual,  I  assure  you,"  laughed  the  girl, 


98  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"and  I  shall  probably  not  be  so  ambitious  again  all 
Summer ;  but  I  did  want  to  do  the  very  first  one,  don't 
you  know." 

Much  to  Jack  Lindsay's  regret,  of  course,  the  con 
versation  was  here  cut  short  by  the  return  of  their  host, 
and  taking  their  mallets  and  balls  the  players  at  once 
lined  up  for  the  knock-off,  which,  to  the  surprise  of 
all,  gave  to  Miss  Lindsay  the  opening  play. 

"O,  don't  make  me  go  first,"  pleaded  the  girl,  in  un 
feigned  distress.  "I  need  some  balls  to  play  on. 
Gertie,  dear,  won't  you  take  my  place?  You  don't 
need  any  help." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  other,  in  her  usual  bright, 
cheery,  obliging  way ;  adding,  "I'm  willing,  if  the  gen 
tlemen  are.  Or  would  it  be  better,  perhaps,  to  have 
your  brother  begin?"  she  questioned.  "That  will  keep 
the  colors  in  stake  rotation,  you  see,  and  give  you  the 
very  last  play,  with  a  chance  at  us  all." 

"That  suits  me  to  a  T.  Jack,  will  you  commence, 
please?" 

"Avec  beaucoup  de  plaisir,  Mademoiselle/'  returned 
the  brother,  Frenchily,  with  an  appropriately  Alphon- 
sian  bow ;  and  at  once  placing  his  ball  in  position,  sent 
it  neatly  through  the  first  two  arches. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  extra  stroke  to  which  this 
feat  entitled  him — for  the  rules  governing  the  game 
at  that  time  were  more  liberal  in  some  respects  than 
those  adopted  later — with  the  first,  the  young  man 
succeeded  in  placing  himself  in  such  position  before 


A  MORNING  GAME  99 

the  side  arch,  that  with  the  second,  the  ball  was  sent 
through  and  into  position  for  the  cage  in  the  center. 
"Well  done,  Mr.  Lindsay !"  exclaimed  Gertie,  with  the 
evident  pride  and  satisfaction  felt  in  a  proficient  part 
ner  ;  adding,  with  confidence,  "and  you'll  clear  that  all 
right,  too" ;  while  Hattie,  whose  pride  in  her  brother's 
skill  caused  her  for  the  moment  almost  to  lose  sight  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  an  opponent,  cried  out :  "Good  for 
you,  Jack!" 

"Ever  going  to  stop?"  drawled  out  Clayton,  lan 
guidly,  as  he  dropped  down  beside  his  waiting  ball,  in 
feigned  weariness.  "Let  me  know  when  my  turn 
comes ;  I'll  take  a  little  nap  in  the  meantime." 

"O,  you  won't  have  long  to  wait ;  not  time  for  more 
than  forty  winks ;"  laughed  the  successful  player.  "I'll 
just  get  into  position  for  that  other  wicket,  with  your 
permission — as  he  cleared  the  cage  by  a  scratch — and 
then  wait  for  company;  it's  getting  a  trifle  lonesome 
down  here."  And  with  a  final,  light  stroke,  he  had 
left  his  ball  in  readiness  for  its  next  using,  but  a  few 
inches  back  of  side  arch  number  two  to  the  right. 

"Wake  up,  old  man;  it's  your  turn  now,"  he  then 
called.  At  which  the  other  arose,  glanced  consider 
ingly  at  the  position  of  his  opponent  for  a  moment, 
placed  his  ball,  and  with  a  swinging  stroke  cleared  the 
two  arches  as  the  first  player  had  done  before  him,  and 
in  addition,  sent  it  spinning  down  the  field,  to  stop  in 
an  almost  straight  line  with  the  other's  and  scarcely 
six  feet  away.  Two  successive  plays  were  now  his, 


100  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

but  one  of  which  was  needed  to  strike  the  little  red 
ball  lying  so  temptingly  and  promisingly  behind  the 
enemy's  arch.  "Shall  I  roquet  or  croquet,  Miss  Lind 
say?"  he  asked. 

"O,  don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Nichols,  for  goodness  sake !" 
replied  his  partner,  helplessly.  "I'm  very  sure  you 
know  a  whole  lot  better  than  I  what  to  do;  only"  she 
cautioned  wisely — "don't  leave  him  there  for  Gertie  to 
play  on ;  she  comes  next,  you  know." 

"Well,  I'll  roquet  then,"  said  the  man,  "so  as  to  get 
the  most  good  out  of  my  strokes."  And  placing  his 
own  ball  at  the  left  and  a  thought  ahead  of  Jack  Lind 
say's,  one  clever  stroke  sent  him  into  position  for  the 
arch,  with  his  opponent  in  close  range  for  use  after 
it  should  have  been  made.  Coming  through  and  strik 
ing  the  little  red  again,  he  bowled  it  along  with  his 
own  for  a  ways  as  he  aimed  for  position,  went  through 
the  cage,  struck  it  again,  and  almost  unexpectedly  to 
himself  even,  he,  in  turn,  now  rolled  to  a  possible  posi 
tion  before  side  arch  number  two. 

"O,  do  you  really  think  you  can  make  it,  Mr. 
Nichols?"  inquired  his  partner,  excitedly;  as  she 
scanned  the  difficult  situation  with  apprehension. 
"Good!  good!  he's  done  it!"  she  cried  with  joy  a  mo 
ment  later;  as  the  ball  rolled  through  the  doubtful 
wicket  sideways,  all  but  grazing  it ;  stopping  less  than 
two  inches  on  the  other  side. 

"Now  do  put  Jack  out  of  the  way,"  she  urged. 
"Don't  leave  him  there  for  Gertie;  she'll  come  right 


A  MORNING  GAME  101 

down  and  put  him  into  position  again;  see  if  she 
doesn't."  But  the  left  of  the  wicket  was  between  the 
specified  balls,  and  the  most  that  her  partner's  remain 
ing  play  could  accomplish  was  to  gain  a  position  before 
the  lower  center  arches ;  thus  leaving  both  his  own  ball 
and  the  little  red,  good  targets  for  the  next  player, 
Gertrude. 

With  but  little  apparent  effort,  the  girl  took  the 
first  arches,  skimmed  down  the  field  and  made  her 
partner's  ball,  all  with  one  stroke.  Next,  calculating 
to  a  nicety  the  distance  and  slant  to  his  next  arch  with 
her  eye,  she  stooped,  and  holding  their  balls  firmly  to 
gether,  hammered  them  yet  more  close  with  a  few 
smart  raps  of  her  mallet;  then  rising  and  pressing 
steadily  upon  her  own  with  her  slender  foot,  struck 
the  ball  a  quick,  hard,  well-directed  blow;  croqueting 
her  partner  not  only  into  position — as  her  sanguine 
friend  had  prophesied — but  clear  through  his  arch. 
Turning,  the  girl  now  made  a  play  for  their  opponent's 
ball;  hit  it,  croqueted  it  off  the  field,  to  the  left,  and 
with  an  exceptionally  successful  stroke,  even  for  her, 
finished  the  play  by  driving  her  own  ball  back  up  the 
field;  following  quickly  to  take  her  place  beside  it  as 
it  came  to  a  standstill  squarely  in  position,  some  four 
feet  back  of  its  own  arch. 

"Brava!" 

"Capital!" 

"Fine!"  chorused  the  others;  Hattie  Lindsay  add 
ing,  "at  your  old  tricks  still,  I  see" ;  as  she  took  her 
place  to  begin. 


102  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Clayton  Nichols  had  by  this  time  recovered  and 
placed  his  ball  again  upon  the  field ;  and  as  his  partner 
raised  her  mallet  to  strike,  he  called  out  quickly,  "Make 
the  two  arches,  Miss  Lindsay,  and  use  your  strokes  to 
come  down  here  by  me;  I  want  your  ball  to  use;  be 
sides,  it  wont  do  much  good  for  you  to  loiter  around 
that  neighborhood  while  Miss  Warfield's  there." 

Lowering  her  mallet,  the  girl  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh,  as  she  replied,  "Well,  it's  very  evident  you've 
never  played  croquet  with  me  before,  Mr.  Nichols. 
Why,  I  was  never  known  to  make  two  arches  at  once, 
was  I  Jack?  In  fact,  I'm  not  real  sure  that  I  ever 
got  through  one  even,  on  the  first  try.  I'll  do  my  very 
best,  though,"  she  finished,  seriously. 

But  although  the  ball  sat  squarely  in  the  center  and 
her  aim  seemed  true,  the  mallet  somehow  swerved  as 
she  landed  a  ringing  blow;  and  the  ball,  striking  the 
wicket,  bounced  back  with  a  thud  against  the  stake. 

"Booby,  as  usual !"  she  exclaimed  with  vexation  and 
disgust.  "Oh,  you  can't  count  on  any  help  from  me, 
Mr.  Nichols;  I  just  knew  I'd  spoil  the  game." 

As  the  unmistakable  quiver  in  the  mortified  girl's 
voice  smote  on  her  ear,  Gertie  stepped  quickly  to  her 
side,  and  slipping  an  arm  tenderly  about  her  waist  for 
a  moment,  whispered  soothingly,  "Don't  mind,  dear ; 
you'll  make  them  both  next  time."  Then  turning  to 
Clayton,  who  at  that  moment  came  hastening  after 
his  ball  as  it  bounded  up  the  field  and  rolled  over 
beside  her  own,  just  touching  it,  she  demanded,  "What 


A  MORNING  GAME  103 

are  you  doing  up  this  way,  sir  ?  You  belong  down  at 
the  other  end." 

"O,  I  just  want  to  be  in  good  company  for  a  little," 
replied  the  young  man ;  continuing,  "that  blue  ball 
looks  very  tempting;  what  shall  I  do  with  it,  Miss 
Lindsay?"  For  he  had  been  struck  by  Gertie's  sweet 
act  of  sympathy,  and  wished  to  do  his  part  also,  toward 
lessening  his  partner's  chagrin  at  failure,  by  again  de 
ferring  to  her  opinion. 

"Take  it  along  and  use  it  since  you  can't  have  mine," 
pouted  the  girl,  gloomily.  Then  brightening:  "But 
no;  she'll  be  right  down  by  Jack  again  if  you  do  that, 
won't  she?  Why  treat  her  as  she  did  you;  put  her 
off  the  field,"  she  laughed. 

"Well,  if  I  must,  here  goes !"  returned  her  well  in 
structed  partner.  And  Gertie's  ball  now  went  spinning 
out  beyond  the  limits;  while  turning  to  its  owner  he 
asked  half-apologetically — as  though  really  regretting 
the  necessity  for  the  damaging  play, — "No  favors ; 
wasn't  that  the  agreement?" 

"No  apologies  necessary,  Mr.  Nichols,"  replied  Ger 
tie;  "friendship  has  ceased  for  the  time  being,  you 
know;  it's  war  to  the  death!"  And  as  she  hurried 
across  the  field  to  hunt  her  ball,  the  girl  called  back 
with  a  playful  threatening,  "I'll  do  as  much  for  you 
again  the  first  chance  I  get ;  see  if  1  don't." 

True — or  shall  we  say  due  to  Gertie's  inspiriting 
prediction,  for  'kind  words  never  die' — with  Hattie 
Lindsay's  next  play,  the  opening  arches  were  cleared : 


104  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

and  once  on  the  field  the  girl's  execution  was  not 
always  as  poor  as  the  beginning  had  threatened. 

The  game  was  now  well  on,  and  with  the  one  excep 
tion  of  herself,  might  justly  have  been  termed  a  battle 
of  giants ;  while  even  her  lack  of  skill  was  almost  more 
than  offset  by  the  extraordinary  ability  of  her  partner ; 
of  whom  her  friend  had  but  truthfully  said,  that  he 
played  a  magnificent  game. 

Up  and  down  and  across  the  field  raced  the  com 
batants,  chasing  and  hammering  each  other,  asking 
and  showing  no  quarter;  while  frequent  shouts  of, 

"Crack  shot !" 

"Touched !" 

"Flinched !" 

"Put  her  out!" 

"Good!  good!" 

"Didn't  move  six  inches!" 

"Dead  ball!" 

"Too  far  in!"  and  other  pertinent  exclamations, 
commendatory,  condemnatory  or  advisory,  as  the  situ 
ation  at  hand  evoked,  gave  evidence  of  the  excitement 
under  which  the  players  were  now  laboring. 

Having  won  the  honor  of  first  rover,  Gertie,  with 
her  little  blue  ball,  wrought  much  havoc  in  the  enemy's 
camp  for  a  time;  but  an  unexpectedly  lucky  stroke  of 
her  friend's,  suddenly  drove  her  against  the  stake,  and 
out;  thus  ending  her  destructively  useful  career,  and 
leaving  her  sorry  partner  to  carry  on  the  unequal  con 
test  alone. 


A  MORNING  GAME  105 

Slowly  up  the  field  continued  the  remaining  players, 
now  one,  now  another  making  some  trifling  advance; 
but  not  a  position  was  gained  nor  an  arch  cleared, 
without  at  least,  a  scrimmage,  and  oftener  a  hard 
fought  battle ;  until  for  the  little  red — Jack  Lindsay's — 
there  remained  but  the  final  center  arches  and  the 
home  stake;  with  the  sister's  black,  only  one  point 
behind,  in  position  at  the  last  arch  to  the  left. 

And  now,  aimed  straight  for  the  latter,  came  Clay 
ton's  white  rover,  struck  with  terrific  force,  bounding 
up  the  field  from  the  extreme  lower  righthand  corner, 
to  which  the  other  man  had  driven  it  but  an  instant 
before.  Breathless,  the  players  watched  its  rapid,  un 
swerving  course  past  arches  and  cage,  until  its  sting 
ing  blow  sent  the  intended  ball  well  through  the  de 
sired  arch ;  the  impact  causing  it  to  fly  clear  over  and 
spend  what  of  its  strength  yet  remained,  losing  itself 
beyond  the  limits. 

"Whew,  Nichols,  but  that  was  a  stunner !"  burst  out 
Jack.  "I  had  no  idea  you  could  make  it!" 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Gertie;  beaming  with  ill-con 
cealed  pride  in  the  young  man's  achievement,  and  a 
pleasure  that  could  only  have  been  equalled  by  the 
natural  additional  satisfaction  felt  had  he  been  playing 
upon  her  side. 

"It  was  a  pretty  lucky  shot,"  admitted  Clayton,  mod 
estly;  adding  dubiously,  "but  we're  not  out  of  the 
woods  yet  by  any  means.  Now  make  your  brother's 


106  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ball,  Miss  Lindsay" — as  his  partner  began  to  play — 
"and  the  two  shots  will  put  you  in  position  and  take 
you  through  the  arch.  You  can  do  "it!"  he  added  en 
couragingly,  as  the  girl,  now  fairly  trembling  with  ner 
vous  excitement,  hesitated  to  attempt  the  eight  or  ten 
feet  of  space  which  lay  between  them.  "Now ;  strike 
hard!"  he  finished. 

But  once  more,  her  mallet  swerved;  and  the  blow, 
which  should  have  struck  the  very  middle  of  the  ball 
for  the  accomplishment  of  her  partner's  wish,  feebly 
hit  the  side;  rolling  it  along  for  a  couple  of  feet,  to 
settle  most  aggravatingly  back  again,  fully  half  the 
distance. 

If  the  reader — as  we  hope — still  has  in  mind  our 
early  introduction,  he  will  recall  that  Clayton  Nichols' 
nature  was  a  very  earnest  one.  While  no  one  could 
be  a  more  graceful  loser  than  himself,  yet  even  in  so 
simple  a  matter  as  a  game  like  this,  where  there  was 
really  nothing  at  stake,  he  played  to  win.  It  was 
therefore  only  by  a  mighty  effort  that  he  politely  re 
pressed  a  groan,  as  the  main  force  of  his  partner's 
blow  was  expended  upon  the  underlying  ground;  but 
his  feelings  found  partial  vent  in  an  uncontrollable, 
doleful,  "Well,  I  guess  the  jig's  up,  Lindsay";  fol 
lowed  by  a  quick  apology  to  the  ladies  for  his  in 
advertent  lapse  into  slang. 

"O,  the  game's  not  ours  yet  by  a  good  deal,"  re 
turned  the  other;  "there's  surely  not  much  to  envy  in 
our  position." 


A  MORNING  GAME  107 

And  this  assertion  was  only  too  true ;  for  Jack  Lind 
say's  ball  lay  so  far  to  the  right  and  so  little  back  of 
the  arch,  that  to  clear  it  would  require  little  short  of  a 
miracle.  For  a  moment  the  young  man  studied  the 
situation.  To  merely  secure  a  better  position  at  this 
stage,  as  he  could  have  done,  would  be  useless,  for 
the  white  rover  would  have  no  difficulty  in  dislodging 
him  at  the  next  play.  There  was  no  alternative;  the 
arch  must  be  made  if  possible,  attempted  at  least.  It 
was  a  ticklish  play ;  too  hard  a  stroke  would  be  sure 
to  send  the  ball  either  beyond,  or  against  the  wire ;  so 
with  a  very  cautious  one,  Jack  sent  it  rolling  gently 
along.  But  the  blow  had  lacked  just  a  fraction  of 
sufficiency,  and  the  little  red  came  to  a  most  exasper 
ating  halt  underneath  the  arch. 

"O,  it  must  be  through!"  exclaimed  Gertie — who, 
though  out  of  the  game  and  debarred  from  giving 
advice,  still  retained  her  mallet — and  dropping  ex 
citedly  to  her  knees  the  girl  carefully  spanned  the 
back  of  the  wicket  with  its  handle ;  but  alas !  the  ball 
was  just  grazed,  and  she  arose  with  a  deep  sigh  of 
disappointment ;  exclaiming,  "We're  lost  for  sure,  Mr. 
Lindsay !" 

"That's  what  you  are,  Miss  Warfield,"  broke  in 
Clayton,  laughingly,  as  with  the  white  rover  he  at 
once  struck  the  little  red,  and  croquetting  it  clear  off 
the  field,  turned,  aimed  for  and  hit  his  partner's  ball. 

The  hardly  contested  game  was  now  practically 
over,  for  with  one  stroke,  the  young  man  then  placed 


108  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

this  latter  in  absolutely  certain  position  back  of  its 
arch,  while  with  the  other  he  rolled  his  own  ball  in 
front  of  it  for  his  partner's  benefit ;  and  as  though  to 
make  amends  for  her  several  bad  breaks  during  the 
game,  the  girl  now  covered  herself  with  glory  at  the 
last;  for  clearing  the  two  arches  at  one  play — her 
ball  sending  that  of  her  partner  before  it  through  the 
last — she  succeeded  in  driving  them  both  home  to  the 
stake  before  another  play  to  him  gave  Jack  Lindsay  a 
fighting  chance  to  re-enter  the  contest. 

"Well  'twas  a  glorious  victory!"  declared  he,  com 
ing  quickly  up  the  field  to  shake  hands  with  his  op 
ponents"  ;  and  I  sincerely  congratulate  you  both ;  al 
though  heartily  ashamed  of  myself  for  not  having 
saved  the  day  for  Miss  Warfield  at  last." 

"Please  don't  feel  badly  about  that,  Mr.  Lindsay" ; 
said  Gertie,  sweetly;  "/  certainly  don't.  With  such, 
opposition  and  the  odds  against  you  as  they  were  for 
so  long,  no  one  could  possibly  have  reflected  more 
glory  upon  our  side  than  you  did,  and  then  we  shall 
have  many  opportunities  to  redeem  ourselves,  I  hope." 

"The  credit  belongs  all  to  your  good  sister,"  put  in 
Mr.  Nichols  generously ;  "if  she  had  not  put  your  won 
derful  partner  out  of  the  game  so  early,  we  could 
never  have  beaten  you.  Why  it  isn't  possible  we've 
been  playing  all  that  time !"  he  concluded  in  surprise ; 
looking  at  his  watch,  as  the  bell  rang  for  luncheon. 
"Stay  and  have  a  bite  with  us,  won't  you?" 

"O,  no,  thanks!"  declined  Miss  Lindsay,  with  de- 


A  MORNING  GAME  109 

ciding  emphasis;  "we  must  get  home  and  make  our 
peace  with  Mamma.  We  can't  thank  you  enough 
though,  for  this  delightful  morning.  Au  revoir" 
waved  the  retreating  girl,  calling  back  as  she  went : 
"We'll  be  down  to  see  those  sketches  this  evening, 
Gertie." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

GERTRUDE  WARFIELD. 

"She  inspired  love  as  naturally  as  the  thirst 
ing  Earth  draws  to  itself  showers  of  refresh 
ment  from  the  moisture-laden  clouds." 

Where  first  impressions  are  lasting  they  are  but 
confirmed,  strengthened  and  deepened  by  further  ac 
quaintance.  Certainly  Jack  Lindsay's  wildly  flattering- 
ones  at  his  first  glimpse  of  Gertrude  Warfield,  were 
in  nowise  lessened  by  the  morning's  association  on 
the  croquet  field  with  the  charming  girl;  while  the 
evening  call — so  thoughtfully  arranged  for  his  especial 
benefit  by  the  considerate  sister — tended  but  to  the 
further  deepening  of  his  already  mad  infatuation. 
One  thing,  however,  troubled  him — for  it  is  not  given 
to  mortals  to  know  the  joy  of  unalloyed  bliss.  They  had 
accepted  Mrs.  Nichols'  neighborly  invitation  to  return 
home  with  herself  and  brother-in-law,  in  the  'Alice,' 
having  preferred  walking  to  the  Armstrong  cottage  to 
using  their  own  boat,  and  in  all  the  conversation  re 
garding  the  new  arrival — which  we  may  reasonably 
conclude  was  not  a  little — Mrs.  Nichols,  so  it  seemed 
to  him,  had  aimed  to  create  the  impression,  true  or 
false,  that  they  were  on  terms  of  exceeding  great 
intimacy  with  her.  Could  it  be  that  there  was  any- 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  111 

thing  between  the  girl  and  Clayton,  he  wondered.  "It 
would  be  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  of 
course,"  so  he  told  himself ;  "for  what  living  man  could 
even  once  meet  her  and  not  lose  both  head  and  heart." 
At  the  dread  thought  of  such  a  possibility,  cold,  creepy 
shivers  immediately  began  worming  their  way  up  and 
down  his  spine.  He  promised  himself  to  ask  Sis,  as 
soon  as  they  should  reach  home;  she  was  perhaps 
posted  on  the  subject,  and  he  must  know  at  once. 
Thus  did  he  bridle  his  impatience  for  the  moment. 
But  the  evening  at  Mrs.  Armstrong's  had  naturally 
been  such  a  delightful  one  that  it  had  been  found  hard 
to  leave ;  it  was  therefore  nearing  the  Vee  sma'  hours 
when  home  was  reached;  and  suffering  from  a  severe 
headache,  his  sister  had  immediately  retired,  leaving 
him  to  the  unsatisfactory  companionship  of  his  doubts 
and  fears.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  therefore, 
but  wait — with  such  scant  patience  as  he  could  now 
muster — until  their  particular  hour  for  confidential 
confabs,  breakfast  time;  so  getting  into  a  jacket  and 
slippers,  Jack  Lindsay  settled  down  in  his  favorite  re 
clining  chair  by  the  open  window,  for  a  solacing  pipe 
ful  ere  following  her  example.  As  he  smoked,  and 
the  cobwebs  which  had  been  fastening  themselves  upon 
his  mind  gradually  loosened  and  floated  away,  doubts 
and  fears  going  with  them  gave  place  to  an  exhaustive 
review  of  the  sweet  day  just  closed;  the  happiest,  and 
as  he  felt  it  also  to  be,  the  most  eventful  in  his  whole 
life;  for  in  it  love,  deep  and  virile,  had  at  last  sprung 


112  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

into  existence  within  him.  "Surely  it  will  be  re 
turned/'  was  his  confident  thought;  "and  under  the 
inspiration  of  such  a  love,  what  would  there  be  that  he 
dared  not  undertake;  what  was  there  that  he  could 
not  accomplish?  O,  how  hard  he  would  work!  he 
would  make  a  name  for  himself,  for  her — precious 
thought !  But  he  must  have  her  with  him ;  the  drudg 
ery  of  Art  would  be  no  longer  drudgery  with  her  dear 
companionship  to  brighten  the  leisure  hours.  Yes, 
he  must  manage  in  some  way  to  take  her  and  Sis  back 
with  him.  Separation?  Impossible!  The  mere 
thought  was  a  dagger  thrust !  True,  he  was  not  in  a 
position  to  marry  at  once,  but  they  were  both  young 
enough  to  wait,  and  that  happiest  day  could  well  be 
postponed  awhile.  The  balance  of  his  stay  at  home 
now,  he  felt,  would  be  all  too  short  for  anything  but 
the  cultivating  of  a  deep  friendship — that  firm  root  of 
love's  beautiful  plant.  But  in  Paris,  dear,  witching, 
amorous  Paris,  where  every  breath  inhaled  was 
charged  and  surcharged  with  love  and  romance,  there 
he  would  woo  and  win  this  lovely  being,  from  whose 
glorious  eyes  the  very  stars  at  which  he  gazed  must 
have  borrowed  their  brilliancy,  and  the  moonbeams 
their  soft  effulgence."  His  was  no  mild  case,  it  will  be 
observed;  he  had  been  deeply  inoculated  and  it  had 
taken  most  thoroughly. 

The  young  man's  unusually  early  appearance  for 
breakfast  next  morning  was  inexplicable  to  his  sister, 
until,  the  last  course  having  been  served  and  the  maid 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  113 

dismissed,  he  quickly  relieved  both  hers  and  his  own 
mind,  by  commencing,  "Where  did  Miss  Warfield  meet 
the  Nichols  family,  Sis,  and  have  they  been  long 
acquainted  ?" 

Ah !  the  cat  was  out  of  the  bag  at  last !  It  had  been 
this  then,  upon  his  mind,  and  not  the  rarebit  of  the 
evening  before  upon  his  stomach — as  she  had  feared — 
which  had  curtailed  her  dear  brother's  sleep.  "Much 
less  serious,"  was  the  girl's  amused  thought,  as  she 
replied :  "Why,  they  met  at  some  watering  place  or 
other  several  Summers  ago,  and  the  families — she  was 
always  with  the  Armstrongs,  you  know — have  been 
very  intimate  ever  since.  Mr.  George  Nichols  had 
been  an  acquaintance  of  Margaret's  father  in  his  life 
time,  I  believe.  I  remember  hearing  the  girls  talk 
about  what  a  grand  time  they  had  had  that  vacation, 
after  we  all  got  back  to  school  again,  and  Margaret 
has  teased  Gertie  about  Clayton,  more  or  less  ever 
since ;  but  I  hardly  believe  there's  anything  in  it.  What 
do  you  think  of  her,  Jack?" 

"Sis,"  came  the  quick  reply,  "she's  the  most  ex 
quisitely  beautiful,  the  most  charming,  the  most  fas 
cinating,  positively  the  most  irresistible  girl  I  ever  met. 
She's  slipped  right  into  my  heart  just  as  you  say  she 
does  into  everybody's.  In  fact,  Sis,  I'm  in  love,  des 
perately  in  love,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"What!  again,  Jack?"  exclaimed  his  sister  in  un 
concealed  surprise.  For  she  remembered  that  when 
growing  up,  her  brother  had  been  known  as  one  of 


114  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

those  ultra-susceptible  chaps  whose  spare  time  seemed 
all  to  be  taken  up  falling  either  in,  or  out  of  love;  it 
had  been  a  standing  joke  in  the  family.  Probably  no 
other  youth  in  Denver  at  the  time  could  have  boasted 
a  larger  collection  of  tiny,  daintily  perfumed  handker 
chiefs  and  odd  party  gloves,  little  faded  flowers,  etc., 
than  he ;  so  she  continued  teasingly,  "How  about  Belle, 
and  Marion,  and  Stella,  and — " 

"Calf  loves,  all  of  them;  over  and  forgotten  long 
ago!"  broke  in  her  brother,  with  marked  displeasure 
both  in  tone  and  manner,  "and  I  shouldn't  think  you'd 
be  so  mean  as  to  mention  them  in  a  connection  like 
this,  Hattie.  The  trouble  is  you  don't  seem  to  realize 
that  I'm  grown  up;  a  fellow's  folks  never  do,"  he 
finished,  disgustedly. 

Now  Jack  Lindsay  only  called  his  sister  by  her  full 
and  given  name  when  he  was  displeased.  Sis  was  his 
pet  name  for  her,  and  the  girl  therefore  hastened  to 
mollify  him ;  for  she  had  not  the  least  wish  or  intention 
of  wounding  his  feelings,  which  she  now  saw  were 
really  serious. 

"Forgive  me,  Jack,"  she  begged  sweetly;  reaching 
over  and  offering  him  her  hand.  You  know  I  was 
only  joking,  don't  you?  and  wouldn't  hurt  you  for 
anything.  What  is  there  that  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"I'm  the  one  to  apologize,"  humbly  returned  the 
young  man,  as  they  clasped  hands;  his  good  humor 
now  fully  restored  by  her  soft  answer.  "But  it's  as  I 
told  you,  Sis,  and  the  jealous  fear  that  there  might  be 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  115 

at  least  an  understanding  between  her  and  Clayton 
Nichols,  has  put  me  out  of  sorts,  I  guess,  and  made 
me  a  little  touchy  this  morning.  I  am  no  longer  a 
boy,  sister,"  he  went  on  very  earnestly,  after  a  mo 
ment's  thoughtful  pause.  "Man's  most  blessed-heritage, 
the  instinct  of  home  and  family,  of  late  stirs  within 
me,  but  until  today  I  have  met  no  one  whom  I  could 
wish  to  have  share  that  happy  state  with  me.  Your 
sweet  friend  meets  all  the  requirements  of  my  heart 
in  this  respect,  therefore  I  love  her,  and  loving  her 
wish,  yes  long  to  have  her  for  my  wife.  Of  course,  I 
should  not  marry  for  a  while,  for  which  reason,  also 
because  my  time  here  will  now  be  so  short,  I  would 
rather  not  tell  her  of  this  at  present;  but  if  she  and 
you  could  return  with  me,  I  should  have  no  fears 
whatever  about  being  able  to  win  her  love.  Does  she 
intend  pursuing  her  art  studies  any  further  ?" 

"I  really  don't  know,  Jack,  but  with  her  talent  it 
would  be  a  great  shame  if  she  didn't,  I  think." 

"It  certainly  would,  Sis,  so  I  want  you  to  find  out 
what  her  ideas  on  the  subject  are,  and  convert  her  to 
yours  if  necessary." 

"But  there's  almost  no  reason  to  hope  for  my  going 
over  with  you,  Jack;  we  might  bring  Mamma  around, 
but  Papa,  I'm  afraid,  never'' 

"Never's  a  long  day,  Sis,"  returned  the  young  man, 
"and  our  father  is  not  an  easy  man  to  convince  against 
his  will,  I  admit;  however,  it  shall  not  be  for  lack  of 
persuasive  eloquence  upon  my  part  if  I  don't  bring 


116  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

him,  too,  around  to  my  way  of  thinking  yet.  I  can 
trust  you  with  my  secret?"  he  asked,  anxiously,  as 
they  arose  to  separate;  "and  count  upon  your  help?" 

"Sure,  Jack,"  replied  the  devoted  sister,  with  a 
heartiness  which  assured  her  prompt  and  best  efforts 
being  put  forth  for  the  furthering  of  her  brother's 
interests.  Nor  was  the  confidence  which  her  words 
inspired  misplaced;  for  her  campaign  of  missionary 
work  was  inaugurated  that  very  afternoon  at  Mrs. 
Armstrong's  Tea. 

"You've  made  wonderful  progress  in  your  work  the 
last  year,  Gertie,"  she  remarked  politically  to  her 
friend ;  as  they  two  found  themselves  separated  for  a 
moment  from  the  rest  of  the  company.  "Those  sketches 
coming  up  are  very  fine.  Jack  says  they  show  great 
talent.  You're  not  going  to  stop  your  studies  now,  I 
hope." 

"O,  no  indeed!"  was  the  gratifying  reply;  "I'm 
much  too  fond  of  them  for  that.  When  we  get  back 
to  the  city  I  intend  to  put  myself  under  competent 
instruction  again.  Who  do  you  take  from?" 

"Nobody  but  Mamma  of  late,  and  then  of  course 
brother's  been  a  great  help  to  me  for  the  last  few 
months.  But  he  goes  back  to  Paris  soon,  you  know. 
We're  trying  to  persuade  Papa  to  let  me  go  with 
him;  and  I'm  just  dying  to.  O,  Gertie,  I  wish  you'd 
go  with  us !"  she  added  impetuously,  as  though  the 
thought  had  but  then  first  entered  her  mind.  "What 
glorious  times  you  and  I  could  have  over  there  to 
gether!" 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  117 

"I've  long  had  an  ambition  to  study  in  that 
artistic  atmosphere  and  probably  shall,  some  day," 
returned  her  friend ;  continuing  politely,  "and  it  would 
be  perfectly  lovely  to  be  there  with  you,  Hattie,  too; 
but  I  couldn't  go  this  Fall,  for  Aunt  Nellie  brings 
Margaret  and  me  out  in  October,  you  know,  and  we 
may  leave  for  Europe  soon  after  that  so  as  to  give  her 
the  whole  Winter  in  the  South  of  France.  I  do  hope  you 
decide  to  go  though,  for  it  would  be  the  most  delight 
ful  anticipation  to  look  forward  to  seeing  you  in  Paris 
when  we  get  there.  I  might  decide  to  stay  with  you 
for  a  year  or  two  of  study  after  our  tour's  finished; 
who  knows?  I  really  have  no  plans  for  the  future 
though  beyond  that,  as  yet" ;  concluded  the  girl. 

Now  while  his  sister's  report  of  this  interview  was 
altogether  void  of  promise  for  the  immediate  future, 
it  nevertheless  was  not  without  encouragement  for 
Jack  Lindsay,  and  was  responsible  for  the  unusually 
forceful  plea  made  to  his  father  over  their  after-din 
ner  coffee  and  cigars  that  evening ;  which  plea,  though 
also  seemingly  barren  of  results,  was  far  from  dis 
heartening  to  the  persevering  young  man,  since  an 
easy  victory  in  this  case  was  beyond  expectation. 

Now  Dr.  Hiram  Lindsay  was  a  self-made  man  and 
so  successful  a  physician  that  he  might  be  justly  proud 
of  his  job.  He  was  intensely  practical,  and  quite  set  in 
his  opinions.  While  he  did  not  in  the  least  disparage 
the  artistic  abilities  of  his  wife  but  was  in  fact  very 


118  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

proud  of  these,  yet  as  a  profession  for  a  man,  Art  came 
extremely  near  to  inspiring  his  contempt,  for  he  re 
garded  the  occupation  as  altogether  too  effeminate  a 
calling  for  the  sterner  sex;  it  being  always  associated 
in  his  mind  with  a  luxuriously  appointed  boudoir,  and  a 
curled,  perfumed  dandy  languidly  idling  at  my  lady's 
feet,  dispensing  pensive  sighs  and  killing  glances, 
while  amorously  warbling  senseless  love  ditties  to  the 
twang  of  his  guitar.  And  no  amount  of  argument  as 
to  the  mighty  power  of  many  of  the  world's  great 
masterpieces  to  educate  and  uplift,  could  reconcile  him 
to  his  son's  having  adopted  it.  It  had  moreover  been 
a  great  disappointment  to  the  able  M.  D.  that  the  boy 
had  not  followed  in  his  footsteps;  but  he  was  an  in 
dulgent  parent,  and  too  wise  an  one,  withal,  to  force 
upon  him  a  profession  for  which  he  had  a  positive 
distaste.  He  had  therefore  generously  secured  for 
Jack  the  best  teaching  obtainable  and  was  now  much 
gratified  at  the  favorable  notice  his  work  was  begin 
ning  to  attract.  His  great  fondness  for  the  society  of 
his  children  was  his  sole  reason  for  objecting  to  the 
daughter's  also  going  abroad,  as  the  brother  had  been 
urging  with  more  or  less  insistence  all  during  his  visit 
home;  for  he  was  extremely  fond  of  his  sister,  and  it 
was  not  merely  as  a  pretext  or  possibility  for  her 
friend's  prospective  society  that  he  now  desired  hers. 
The  other  girl's  intended  visit  to  Paris  in  the  near 
future,  however,  seemed  now  to  make  it  imperative  that 
she  be  there  with  him ;  so  his  persuasive  eloquence — to 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  119 

which  hers  was  of  course  always  added — was  therefore 
brought  to  bear  with  still  greater  frequency  and  earn 
estness  upon  both  parents;  until,  a  week  later,  their 
mother  having  been  won  over  and  into  a  dependable 
ally,  the  father's  consent  was  naturally  not  long  de 
layed. 

How  shall  we  tell  of  the  blissful  days  of  blissful 
anticipation  which  now  followed  for  the  hopeful,  nay 
more,  confident"  lover.  Days  possible  only  in  the 
blessed  Springtime  of  life,  when  hearts  are  young 
and  carefree,  and  hope  beats  high  within  the  breast. 
Ere  the  heart-educating  illusions  of  life  have  been  dis 
pelled  by  its  heart-numbing  realisations;  its  heart 
breaking  experiences.  The  sun  shone,  the  birds  sang, 
the  flowers  bloomed  just  as  before ;  but  for  Jack  Lind 
say,  life  had  never  until  then  contained  real  brightness 
or  melody  or  sweet  perfume.  The  benignant  face  of 
external  Nature  seemed  to  have  taken  on  a  more  ex 
pansive  smile  in  order  to  reflect  within  it  the  happy 
one  illumining  his  very  soul. 

Now  the  Armstrong  Tea  and  the  Nichols'  House- 
warming,  both  of  which  occurred  within  a  few  days 
after  Gertrude  Warfield's  arrival  at  the  lake,  sufficed 
to  introduce  her  to  the  entire  colony;  and  as  every 
body  met  everybody  else  practically  every  day,  inti 
mate  acquaintance  was  a  matter  of  but  a  short  time. 
The  girl  was  soon  in  demand  everywhere;  for  she 
possessed  in  large  degree  that  particular  quality  of 
the  really  charming  woman ;  the  power  to  attract  and 


120  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

attach  to  herself  those  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages.  She 
inspired  love  as  naturally  as  the  thirsting  earth  draws 
to  itself  showers  of  refreshment  from  the  moisture- 
laden  clouds,  and  radiated  it  forth  again  in  scattered 
happiness,  as  insensibly  and  steadily  as  the  sunbeams, 
to  cheer  and  bless;  it  was  good  just  to  be  near  her. 
The  secret  of  it  all  lay  in  her  paramount  consideration 
for  others.  Selfishness  withers  and  dies  beneath  Cal 
vary;  and  like  her  acknowledged  Lord,  in  Gertie's 
thoughts,  self  came  last  if  at  all.  Yet  she  marveled  at 
the  universal  kindness  which  met  her  on  every  hand. 
"Every  one  is  so  lovely  to  me,"  was  her  constant, 
plaint;  and  her  life  was  a  daily  thanksgiving  to  God 
for  His  great  goodness  to  her  in  this  respect.  Not 
that  there  was  any  morbid  sanctimoniousness  about 
the  girl;  no  one  could  be  fonder  of  life  and  all  its 
legitimate  pleasures  than  she;  while  the  expression 
frequently  upon  her  lips,  'the  funny  part  of  it  was/ 
showed  her  quickness  to  detect  and  enjoy  a  humorous 
situation.  No,  Gertrude  Warfield  was  simply  a  re 
freshing  expression  of  harmony;  of  well-rounded 
character ;  of  a  being  whom  heredity,  environment  and 
possibly  fortunate  education  had  conspired  to  make  in 
perfect  accord  with  itself,  with  its  Maker.  It  is  not 
surprising  therefore,  that  she  was  not  only  the  ad 
mitted  favorite  of  the  camp  in  a  very  short  time,  but 
the,  at  least,  tacitly  admitted  belle  besides.  Had  she 
been  a  coquette,  how  many  hearts  might  she  have 
broken  during  that  first  brief  Summer  season;  how 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  121 

many  scalps  been  dangling  from  her  belt.  Or  had  she 
been  even  that  less  harmful  type  of  the  same  species, 
a  mere  flirt,  how  many  might  she  have  drawn  to  her 
feet;  for  the  girl  was  as  Jack  Lindsay  had  so  em 
phatically  declared,  positively  irresistible. 

Like  all  well-bred  girls,  Gertrude  was  at  perfect 
ease  in  society,  and  in  a  mixed  company  overflowed 
with  friendliness ;  not  distant  even  with  men.  Alone 
with  young  ones,  however,  and  this  encouraging 
friendliness  was  immediately  supplanted  by  the  still 
more  charming  shyness  and  reserve  of  manner  which 
took  possession  of  her;  unconsciously  challenging  to 
pursuit,  for  the  treasure  we  prize  must  be  hard  to  be 
won,  and  making  of  her  the  truly  fascinating  young 
person  that  she  was. 

But  though  the  girl  was  neither  a  coquette  nor  a 
flirt — for  with  her  considerate  nature  to  have  been 
either  were  impossible, — she  was  still  what  the  perfect 
harmony  of  her  nature  of  which  we  have  spoken  re 
quired  ;  a  real,  live,  flesh-and-blood  girl,  whose  natural 
instincts  and  destiny  were  wifehood,  motherhood;  and 
to  whom  the  attentions  of  the  opposite  sex  were 
therefore,  as  ordained,  pleasing.  And  such  attentions 
were  now  literally  showered  upon  her.  Was  it  a  ride, 
a  drive,  a  climb,  a  row,  a  picnic,  a  lawn  or  croquet  or 
house  party,  or  what  not,  this  unassuming  slip  of  a 
girl  would  soon  find  herself  the  center  of  attraction, 
with  well  on  to  a  dozen  cavaliers,  oftentimes,  dancing 
attendance,  and  vieing  with  each  other  for  the  honor 


122  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

and  privilege  of  acting  as  escort  or  partner,  with  the 
coveted  opportunities  thus  presented  for  basking  in 
her  smiles.  Was  it  an  evening  of  dancing,  the  pro 
gramme  was  never  long  enough  to  accommodate  all 
aspirants  had  she  even  danced  continuously. 

All  these  proffered  attentions  were  accepted  with 
the  same  apparent  pleasure  and  impartiality,  and  her 
favors  distributed  in  the  same  equal  ratio.  All,  did 
we  say?  No,  not  all.  There  was  one — although  he 
knew  it  not — whose  gallantries  and  attentions  always 
caused  a  deeper  throb;  a  throb  of  ecstacy;  and  whom 
the  awakened  girl  now  realized  of  a  sudden,  had  'long 
before,  taught  her  heart  the  song  of  olden  wonder, 
her  pulse  the  long,  sweet  thrill  of  rapture,  and  whose 
name  her  dying  lips  would  call' ;  for  now  'twas  only  he 
who  left  her  lonelier  than  when  he  came,  and  her  heart 
was  as  truly  his — although  no  word  of  love  had  yet 
passed  between  them — as  though  the  beautiful  solitaire 
which  he  drew  nightly  from  its  hiding  place  to  inspect 
and  admire,  already  glistened  upon  her  hand.  There 
were  uncertain,  introspective  moments  when  the  mod 
est  young  girl  questioned  with  herself  whether  this 
were  not  an  unmaidenly  action;  but  the  result  was  al 
ways  the  same,  a  failure  to  find  any  abiding  reason  for 
self-reproach.  For  love  is  not  solely,  indeed  perhaps 
least  of  all,  is  it  a  language  of  words,  nor  does  it  re 
quire  age  or  experience  to  understand  its  many  tokens ; 
since  in  matters  of  the  heart,  a  young  girl  is  said  to  be 
endowed  with  the  prescience  of  a  God.  A  glance  of 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  123 

the  eye,  a  tone  of  the  voice,  a  clasp  of  the  hand,  these 
all  may  contain  the  concentrated  essence  of  thousands 
of  spoken  or  written  words  upon  the  subject,  and 
speak  even  more  quickly  and  convincingly  to  the 
heart.  Of  such,  coupled  with  an  unmistakable  fond 
ness  for  her  society,  there  had  already  been  enough 
to  whisper  softly  of  Clayton  Nichols'  untold  love;  but 
had  there  still  been  a  lingering  doubt,  there  was  al 
ways  the  unused  boat,  the  'Gertie'  to  silence  it.  So, 
knowing  neither  doubt  nor  fear,  the  willing  girl  rested 
content  in  the  happy  consciousness  of  this  welcome, 
though  as  yet,  unrevealed  love;  albeit,  preserving 
towards  this  young  man  the  same  impenetrable,  shy 
reserve  of  manner  which  characterized  her  intercourse 
with  all  others. 

But  what  of  the  lover  ?  With  what  emotions  did  he 
contemplate  this  numerous  rivalry  for  the  notice  and 
regard  of  the  girl  he  loved  ?  Now  to  Clayton  Nichols, 
Gertrude  Warfield  was,  of  course,  the  most  delightful 
and  fascinating  creature  in  the  whole  wide  world ;  and 
yet,  with  that  strange  obtuseness  peculiar  to  many 
lovers — even  husbands — he  was  not  at  all  prepared  for 
the  girl's  excessive  popularity.  It  had  actually  come 
upon  him  something  in  the  nature  of  a  surprise  that 
so  many  other  admirers  had  sprung  up,  equally  keen 
to  discover  her  many  charms;  and  as  he  noted,  also 
with  surprise,  her  seemingly  equal  pleasure  in  the 
attentions  of  these  many,  surprise  was  followed  by  the 
disturbing  fear  that  he  might  even  have  been  over- 


124  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

confident  as  to  the  important  place  which  he  had  occu 
pied  in  the  former  schoolgirl's  regard.  He  began 
to  tax  himself  with  poor  judgment  for  not  having  put 
his  fortunes  to  the  test  and  learning  his  fate  before 
leaving  Denver,  ere  these  worrisome  complications 
had  arisen.  Then  common  sense  would  whisper  that 
'twas  wiser  thus ;  a  girl  so  young  in  experience  should 
be  allowed  a  chance  to  learn  her  own  heart;  and  the 
downcast  adorer  would  try  to  take  this  latter  com 
mon  sense  view  of  the  case,  feeling  that  while  it 
would  of  course  make  life  no  longer  worth  the  living 
should  she  ever  care  for  another  more  than  for  himself, 
yet  this  was  certainly  the  less  crucial  time  to  learn  the 
heart-breaking  truth,  if  learn  it  he  must. 

Now  competition  is  as  much  the  life  of  a  love  afYair 
as  of  trade;  so,  fed  and  strengthened  by  doubt  and 
uncertainty  as  much  perhaps  as  by  the  constant  dis 
covery  of  new  and  rarer  charms,  the  young  man's  love 
grew  still  deeper  day  by  day,  while  kept  in  check,  or 
rather  swayed  for  a  time  by  the  promptings  of  com 
mon  sense.  Nor  was  the  position  of  Jack  Lindsay 
scarcely  a  more  enviable  one  than  his  own,  for  al 
though  a  very  deep  and  ardent  friendship  between  the 
girl  and  himself  limited  his  aspirations  for  the  time 
being,  he  surely  had  as  much  if  not  more  to  dread 
from  the  pretensions  of  other  followers.  Impelled 
much,  therefore,  by  what  he  considered  the  necessities 
of  the  case,  no  less  perhaps  than  longing  to  be  as  con 
stantly  as  possible  with  and  near  her,  his  attentions  to 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  125 

the  sweet  young  girl  were  so  assiduous,  that  Qayton 
Nichols  soon  came  to  suspect  in  him  his  most  danger 
ous  rival;  a  compliment  the  ambitious  fellow  would 
have  felt  flattered  indeed,  to  have  known,  but  which 
though  unknown,  was  in  truth  most  fully  returned. 

Both  of  these  fortunate  young  men,  however,  pos 
sessed  a  very  great  and  a  common  advantage  over  all 
others,  in  the  loyal  support  and  assistance  of  a  most 
devoted  and  determined  sister,  by  the  one,  and  an 
equally  devoted  and  determined  sister-in-law  by  the 
other. 

To  one  who  understood  the  game,  knew  what  was 
going  on,  the  maneuvers  of  these  opposing  command 
ers -in-chief  of  this  momentous  campaign — for  such 
each  unmistakably  felt  herself  to  be — the  maneuvers 
of  these,  we  say,  would  have  been  both  interesting  and 
highly  amusing,  for  it  was  a  constant  and  truly  femin 
ine  planning  and  scheming  for  possession  of  the  un 
suspecting  cause  of  them  all,  that  thereby  the  interests 
of  their  respective  candidates  for  her  favor  might  be 
advanced;  and  it  is  quite  safe  to  assume  that  any  ad 
vantage,  real  or  supposed,  gained  by  the  one  side, 
caused  a  proportionate  amount  of  heart-burning  on  the 
other.  Not  that  any  of  this  ever  palpably  rose  to  the 
surface.  The  fixed  rules  of  society'  prevented  that; 
but  it  was  none  the  less  real  even  so. 

The  sketching  tours,  arranged  with  the  greatest  pos 
sible  frequency  by  the  artistic  brother  and  sister,  were 
their  drawing  card,  and  a  most  valuable  asset  did  they 


126  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

appear,  since  from  sheer  love  of  a  sketch,  Gertrude 
Warfield  would  willingly  forego  almost  any  other 
form  of  entertainment.  Then  there  was  the  incalcul 
able  benefit  to  be  had  from  Jack's  greater  knowledge, 
always  so  generously  and  gladly  imparted  in  his  most 
engaging  way ;  and  at  such  times  there  might  be, — fre 
quently  was — of  course,  a  suggestion  necessary,  or  at 
least  advisable,  as  to  the  better  way  for  the  handling 
of  her  pencil;  which  never  could  have  been  success 
fully  demonstrated  without  a  moment's  holding  of 
her  dainty  hand.  There  were  also  pleasant  jaunts  to 
gether,  either  to  this  or  that  point  of  vantage  for 
sketching,  or  in  search  of  promising  subjects;  and 
delightful  talks  upon  their  mutually  favorite  topic. 
All  these  impelling  causes  and  more,  drew  the  three 
much  together  and  gave  birth  to  a  most  charming  in 
timacy.  Naturally,  the  brother  and  sister  dilated  much 
and  often  upon  the  subject  nearest  their  hearts,  future 
study  with  them  in  Paris ;  of  which  their  non-com 
mittal  young  friend  always  spoke  as  a  'delightful  pos 
sibility.' 

Could  Mrs.  Nichols  but  have  known  why  this  was 
not  promised  as  an  actual  certainty,  what  a  relief  and 
comfort  such  knowledge  would  have  been  to  that 
much  perturbed  little  lady;  and  had  Clayton  Nichols 
but  known,  how  quickly  would  he  have  been  found  at 
the  feet  of  the  faithful,  loving  girl ;  for  it  was  the  in 
tolerable  thought  of  long  separation  from  him  which 
alone  prevented,  just  as  the  one  drawback  to  her  per- 


GERTRUDE  WARFIELD  127 

feet  enjoyment  of  their  delightful  sketching  tours,  was 
the  fact  of  his  unfortunate  exclusion  from  them. 

But  to  be  in  ignorance  is — not  always — bliss,  and 
ignorance  of  this  truth  was  filling  the  hearts  of  these 
two  persons  with  a  needless  and  growing  jealousy  of 
the  harmless  little  trips,  which  the  simple  magic  of  a 
word  could  have  exorcised. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  AND  ITS  ENDING. 

"'You  little  witch'!  he  exclaimed,  straining  her 
to  his  bosom,  while  he  rained  kisses  upon  lip 
and  cheek  and  brow." 

Time  and  tide  were  never  known  to  wait  for  any 
man;  thus,  sped  on  the  fleet  wing  of  enjoyment,  the 
happy  days  had  scurried  by  into  weeks,  which  had  in 
turn  rolled  themselves  up  and  been  lost  in  eternity. 
Five  of  the  contemplated  eight  of  the  stay  of  the  Arm 
strong  and  Nichols'  households  at  the  lake  had  al 
ready  passed,  and  very  disappointing  ones  indeed  had 
they  been  to  the  expectant  little  mistress  of  Lakewood 
Lodge.  Things  had  not  gone  to  suit  her  at  all ;  things, 
of  course,  referred  only  to  the  love  affairs  of  her 
brother-in-law.  Aside  from  that,  it  had  been  a  most 
satisfactory  experience,  for  she  had  both  charmed  and 
been  charmed.  But  Clayton's  mystifying  delay  in  set 
tling  what  she  considered  the  most  momentous  matter 
of  the  season,  had  surprised  her  at  first  and  was  now 
beginning  to  exasperate;  all  the  more  so  because  of 
her  seeming  powerlessness  to  effect  a  change.  She 
had  been  championing  his  cause  to  the  very  best  of 
her  ability,  she  thought,  and  it  was  nothing  flattering 
to  that  ability  that  as  yet  there  were  no  tangible  re- 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  129 

suits  so  far  as  she  could  discover.  This  nettled  her; 
but  deeper  even  than  this  emotion  was  the  disinter 
ested  fear — for  the  young  man's  sake  alone — that  he 
would,  by  such  unexpected  dallying,  lose  the  lovely 
girl  for  whom  she  rightly  believed  him  to  be  longing 
with  all  his  heart  and  soul.  True,  her  championship 
had  been  altogether  of  her  own  volition,  but  that  fact 
made  failure  no  more,  if  anything  rather  less,  consol 
ing.  Unlike  Hattie  Lindsay,  her  assistance  in  the 
affair  had  never  been  invoked,  for  several  reasons. 
First,  she  was  not  the  young  man's  sister;  had  she 
been,  he  would  perhaps  not  have  felt  the  same  re 
ticence  in  speaking  to  her  of  his  inner  emotions.  Also, 
while  Clayton  Nichols  was  quite  a  paragon  of  his  sex, 
he  was  not  absolutely  free  from  its  weaknesses;  his 
wings,  as  yet,  showed  no  tendency  to  sprout.  While 
he  would  not,  of  course,  disdain  to  profit  from  any 
advantages  which  might  accrue  from  her  unsolicited 
managing,  like  many  another  man,  he  preferred  to  en 
tertain  the  pleasing  conceit  that  he  had  done  the  whole 
thing  himself.  Possibly,  too,  he  would  have  felt  less 
unwillingness  to  share  the  credit  with  some  sisters-in- 
law;  but  this  one,  like  many  other  women — and  some 
men — had  a  perfect  passion  for  managing  things  for 
other  people,  which  appealed  to  her  brother-in-law  not 
at  all.  "He  had  no  intention  of  letting  her  run  him'' ; 
he  would  tell  himself  upon  occasion.  "George  could 
do  so  if  he  wished;  she  was  his  wife  and  it  was  per 
haps  all  right  that  he  should;  but  she  would  never 


130  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

have  been  his  choice."     Yet  the  two  were  always  on 
the  very  best  of  terms. 

Now  for  her  adored  husband's  sake,  Mrs.  Nichols 
really  felt  a  deep  affection  for  Clayton;  for  his  own, 
a  great  respect  as  well ;  a  little  of  wholesome  fear, 
possibly,  also,  which  had  in  the  present  instance  kept 
her  in  check  thus  long.  And  the  young  man  fully 
appreciated  the  many  good  qualities  of  which  she  was 
possessed.  For  her  absolute  devotion  to  his  brother, 
alone,  he  could  have  overlooked  much;  but  he  could 
not  refrain  from  grumbling  to  himself  occasionally, 
"Alice's  officiousness  does  get  on  a  man's  nerves,  terri 
bly." 

The  situation  having  become  well  nigh  intolerable 
to  the  impetuous  woman,  however,  there  were  grow 
ing  indications  of  an  outbreak  in  the  immediate  future. 

Now,  the  week's  visit  with  them,  which — it  will  be 
recalled — Hattie  Lindsay  had  expressed  the  intention 
of  claiming  from  her  friend,  had,  at  her  brother's 
request,  been  reserved  for  their  last  one  at  the  lake, 
that  he  might  have  the  anticipated  sweet  memories  of 
the  same  the  fresher  in  mind  when  he  should  have 
taken  his  leave  of  her.  For  the  Monday  afternoon  of 
this  week,  Gertie  had  accepted  Mrs.  Nichols'  invitation 
to  dine  at  Lakewood  Lodge,  remaining  for  the  even 
ing  of  croquet — by  moonlight,  of  course — to  which  all 
the  young  people  of  the  camp  had  been  bidden;  after 
which,  her  visit  with  the  Lindsays  would  begin  by 
accompanying  Hattie  and  Jack  home  from  the  lawn 
fete. 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  131 

This  proposed  visit,  however,  proved  the  'final  straw' 
to  Mrs.  Nichols'  powers  of  endurance.  She  simply 
could  not  tolerate  the  thought  of  such  a  frightful  risk. 
She  fretted  and  fumed  and  stewed  over  the  matter 
secretly,  until,  her  patience  all  gone,  she  suddenly 
burst  out  at  luncheon,  on  that  eventful  day,  with — 
"Clayton  Nichols,  I  really  don't  think  you've  got  your 
proper  share  of  good  sense!" 

Surprised  as  he  was  at  the  attack — for  his  outspoken 
sister-in-law  had  never  presumed  to  administer  to  him 
so  scathing  a  rebuke  before — the  young  man  never 
theless  replied  calmly,  "Why,  my  dear  sister,  what  have 
I  done  to  merit  such  an  uncomplimentary  opinion  as  all 
that?" 

"O,  it's  not  what  you  have  done  but  what  you 
haven't/'  snapped  out  the  woman  angrily.  "Here 
you're  sitting  still  and  letting  another  man  walk  right 
off  with  the  girl  you  love.  I  really  don't  know  what 
you  can  be  thinking  of,  Clayton !  You  surely  aren't 
waiting  for  her  to  come  and  throw  herself  into  your 
arms?  Well,  she'll  never  do  it" — with  great  positive- 
ness — "I  can  just  tell  you  that.  I'm  sure  I've  tried  to 
help  you  all  I  could  and  I've  told  you  long  ago  that 
she  loves  you.  At  least  she  d'd  once,  but  I'm  not  so 
sure  about  it  any  longer ;  I  don't  see  how  she  can ; 
I'm  sure  7  wouldn't  if  I  was  in  her  place!  Marry  an 
artist,  indeed !"  The  woman  here  snorted,  indignantly. 
"Of  course  he's  very  handsome,  fascinating,  and  all 


132  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

that,  but  that's  just  the  trouble;  why  he'll  break  her 
heart  in  no  time;  and  I  believe  you'd  be  willing  that 
he  should,"  she  accused  excitedly.  Continuing:  "I 
know  what  artist  husbands  are;  we  had  one  in  our 
family  for  a  few  years.  Well  she  just  shan't  do  any 
thing  of  the  kind ;  that  is,  not  if  7  can  help  it ;  I'll  put 
a  flea  in  her  ear ;  /'//  save  that  dear  girl  if  you  won't ! 
O,  if  Georgie  were  only  here !"  the  excited,  nervous 
tremolo  in  her  voice,  by  this  time,  almost  a  sob,  as  she 
ended  her  rebuke  with  a  despairing  wail. 

Now  politeness  alone  would  have  kept  the  repri 
manded  young  man  from  interrupting  this  vehement 
reproving,  even  had  he  not  felt  moved  at  this  time  to 
appreciate  the  interest  in  his  supposed  happiness  which 
had  plainly  provoked  it.  Then  too,  having  about  as 
nearly  reached  the  limits  of  endurance  as  herself — he 
could  stand  suspense  no  longer,  and  had  therefore 
decided  to  acknowledge  his  love  to  Gertrude  Warfield 
that  very  evening  before  their  other  guests  should 
have  arrived — he  was  therefore  in  a  more  mellow  and 
tolerant  frame  of  mind  than  he  might  otherwise  have 
been;  so,  somewhat  to  Mrs.  Nichols'  surprise,  and 
greatly  to  her  relief — for  she  had  felt  as  though  her 
interference  would  probably  be  as  a  bearding  of  the 
lion  in  his  den — he  replied  with  evident  gratitude: 
"Alice,  I  appreciate  your  anxiety  upon  my  account, 
I  assure  you ;  and  thank  you  for  all  you've  tried  to  do 
in  my  behalf.  I've  noticed  your  interest  and  efforts 
although  I  haven't  said  anything  about  them ;  and 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  133 

you've  certainly  been  most  kind.  But  I'm  afraid 
you're  giving  yourself  a  whole  lot  of  needless  worry, 
sister ;  /  haven't  heard  of  any  one  being  walked  away 
with,  yet,  as  you  call  it."  He  smiled. 

"But  she  will  be,  brother,  if  you  don't  hurry  up"; 
cautioned  the  other,  with  most  confident  emphasis. 
"There's  the  Lindsays,  now;  why  they're  going  to 
have  her  over  there  for  a  whole  week;  and  any  one 
with  half  an  eye  can  see  that  Jack's  just  dead  in  love 
with  the  girl.  These  sketching  tours  all  the  time — 
trumped  up  excuses" — she  sniffed  disdainfully,  "have 
been  bad  enough ;  but  to  be  in  the  same  house  together 
for  a  whole  seven  days  besides !  just  think  what  could 
happen  in  that  time,  Clayton;  just  think!" 

But  the  young  lover  was  even  less  pleased  at  the 
prospect  of  that  'whole  week'  than  she  herself  had  been, 
and  had  no  desire  to  think  about  its  danger;  it  had 
struck  still  more  of  terror  to  his  heart  than  to  hers, 
and  had  in  fact,  been  the  very  thing  which  had  decided 
him  to  delay  no  longer,  but  take  time  by  the  forelock 
in  speaking  to  the  girl  that  evening;  thus  forestalling 
any  disastrous  consequences  of  her  disquieting  visit,  if 
possible.  His  mind  thus  made  up,  he  answered  lightly, 
"O  well,  Alice,  Jack's  going  away  very  soon,  now,  you 
know,  so  don't  worry  about  him." 

"And  I  bet  you  what  you  dare,  Clayton  Nichols, 
that  he  goes  with  Gertrude  Warfield  as  his  fiancee" 
asserted  his  companion,  with  a  decided  nod.  Adding, 
with  an  approach  to  a  sneer,  "It  won't  be  his  sister's 


134      .          BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

fault  if  he  don't,  anyway;  that  girl's  been  doing  noth 
ing  but  -figure  and  scheme  to  throw  those  two  together 
ever  since  we  got  here ;  I  declare !  it's  been  positively 
disgusting!" 

"Well,  'all's  fair  in  war  and  love,'  they  say,  Alice," 
returned  her  brother-in-law,  carelessly — while  inward 
ly  smiling  as  he  recalled  how  very  similar  had  been  her 
tactics,  and  those  of  the  devoted  sister  next  door — 
"so  I  guess  we'll  have  to  take  our  chances.  I've  got 
some  writing  to  do,"  he  finished,  "so  if  you'll  excuse 
me,  I'll  attend  to  it  before  our  fair  guest  arrives" ;  and 
leaving  his  much  exercised  sister-in-law  at  the  table 
with  a  puckered  brow,  the  young  man  made  his  way 
•to  his  own  apartments. 

Now  the  interview  had  not  been  a  particularly  en 
lightening  one  to  Mrs.  Nichols ;  in  fact,  as  she  came  to 
think  it  over,  she  realized  that  it  had  not  been  at  all  so. 
She  really  knew  no  more  as  to  the  man's  intentions 
now  than  she  had  known  before.  But  then  her  object 
in  speaking  had  really  been  more  to  ease  her  own  mind 
than  to  learn  the  state  of  his,  and  her  sputter  had 
brought  her  some  measure  of  relief  at  any  rate.  "He 
took  it  better  than  I  feared  he  might,"  she  congratu 
lated  herself.  "I  would  so  have  liked  to  suggest  a 
speaking  to  Gertie  before  that  horrid  visit,  but  of 
course,  I  wouldn't  have  dared  go  that  far.  I've  put 
a  flea  in  his  ear,  though,  that  I  hope  will  set  him  to 
thinking;  yes,  and  acting  more  lively,  too.  Perhaps 
he  has  offered  himself  already,  and  been  refused ;  that 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  135 

possibility  has  never  occurred  to  me  before,  and  of 
course  he'd  hate  to  tell  me  if  that  was  the  case.  It's 
an  absurd  idea,  though,  for  Gertie's  far  too  sensible  a 
girl  to  refuse  such  a  splendid  fellow  as  Clayton.  Well, 
all  I  can  do  now  is  to  wait  and  watch  for  further  de 
velopments."  She  sighed  resignedly.  "I  think  it  was  a 
little  mean  of  him  though,  after  all  I've  done  for  him, 
not  to  tell  me  how  matters  stand ;  he  must  have  known 
I'd  like  to  know,  even  if  I  didn't  ask  right  out.  Oh, 
I  do  wish  Clayton  wasn't  quite  so  close-mouthed ;  he'd 
be  just  simply  perfect  if  it  wasn't  for  that !" 

The  above  were  the  unsatisfactory  meditations  of 
the  woman ;  while  the  man — who  had  used  his  plea  of 
writing  to  be  done  merely  as  a  convenient  pretext  t*> 
end  the  conversation  before  pointed  questions  were 
asked — once  by  himself,  half  regretted  not  having  set 
the  warm-hearted  creature's  mind  at  rest  with  his 
confidence. 

"Well,  she'll  know  something  definite  by  tomorrow, 
any  way,"  was  his  palliating  thought ;  "and  that  some 
thing  will  have  taken  this  anxious  load  off  of  her 
mind,  and  mine  too,  I  trust." 

But  how  often  do  the  well-laid  plans  both  of  mice 
and  men,  gang  aglee!  That  very  afternoon  Clayton 
Nichols  had  been  hastily  summoned  to  the  mine  by 
tidings  of  an  accident  there,  in  which  several  work 
men,  including  his  acting  superintendent,  had  been 
severely  injured.  There  had  been  no  time  to  see  his 
loved  one,  of  course,  before  starting,  not  even  to  bid 


136  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

her  goodbye.  In  fact  the  man's  only  thought  upon 
receiving  the  distressing  news  had  been  to  reach  the 
place  with  Dr.  Lindsay  in  the  quickest  possible  time, 
and  render  what  aid  lay  in  his  power  to  the  poor  vic 
tims.  Had  his  superintendent  not  been  among  the 
unfortunates  his  absence  would  have  been  but  short. 
Under  existing  circumstances,  however,  with  the  mine 
running  by  day  and  night,  his  presence  there  became 
a  necessity  for  the  time  being,  and  that  whole  week 
had  passed  before  the  anxious  lover  felt  himself  free 
to  return  home  and  learn  his  fate.  His  dutiful  exile 
had  not  been  without  its  compensations  however,  for 
the  days  had  been  brightened  by  several  meetings  with 
the  dear  one  of  his  heart — the  ladies  of  the  colony, 
many  of  them,  being  desirous  of  helping  to  care  for 
the  suffering  men — and  as  he  noted  her  tender  minis 
trations  to  the  injured,  and  her  ready  sympathy  and 
generous  but  unostentatious  assistance  to  their  afflicted 
families,  how  much  more  deeply  did  he  learn  to  love 
the  sweet  girl,  and  how  hard  it  often  became  to  re 
main  at  the  post  of  duty  with  his  fate  hanging  in  the 
balance,  and  she  an  undoubtedly  pampered  guest  in  the 
home  of  a  sure  rival. 

"How  soon  may  we  expect  you  back,  Mr.  Nichols  ?" 
had  been  her  cheering  inquiry  however,  one  day  when 
taking  leave  of  him.  At  another  it  had  been  the  flat 
tering  admission,  "The  camp  seems  a  bit  dull  without 
you,  Mr.  Nichols."  And  on  Saturday,  "You'll  surely 
come  home  in  time  for  a  parting  game,  won't  you? 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  137 

Mr.  Lindsay  and  Hattie  leave  us  on  Tuesday,  you 
know." 

He  was  missed,  then!  O,  how  the  coveted  knowl 
edge  comforted,  and  served  to  shorten,  by  brightening 
the  remaining  hours  of  their  separation;  encouraged 
him  also  to  hope  that  he  might  not  be  too  late  with  his 
sweet  story,  even  yet. 

But  while  the  painfully  suspenseful  week  had  been 
a  hard  and  trying  one  indeed  to  Clayton  Nichols,  to 
Jack  Lindsay  it  had  been  one  of  continued  and  un- 
obscured  delight;  and  O,  how  often  were  its  cloudless 
hours  lived  over  again,  moment  by  moment,  in  the 
long  years  of  life  which  followed. 

To  Mrs.  Nichols  it  had  been  a  most  nerve-racking 
period,  which  she  had  lived  in  momentary  dread  of 
the  announcement  of  a  distasteful  engagement;  and 
as  an  offset,  she  now  claimed  the  innocent  cause  of 
her  anxiety  for  the  following  week.  True,  there  was 
always  present  with  her  the  worrisome  fear  that  her 
laudable  endeavors  in  her  brother-in-law's  behalf 
might  now  prove  futile,  because  too  late;  yet — hover 
ing  solicitously  near — she  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
overhear  the  girl's  seemingly  very  interested  inquiry 
as  to  the  expected  date  of  his  return,  and  this  had 
encouraged  her  to  hope  that  she  was  still  free;  "and 
if  free"  she  comforted  herself,  "we  shall  have  no  more 
interference  from  the  Lindsay  family  after  Tuesday, 
thank  goodness!  and  I  myself  can  begin  to  breathe 
freely  once  more ;  something  I've  not  been  allowed  to 
do  all  Summer !" 


138  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Thus  it  happened  that  as  the  eager  suitor  cantered 
up  to  the  bungalow  a  little  before  the  dinner  hour  the 
following  Monday  afternoon,  he  was  richly  rewarded 
for  his  enforced  period  of  exile  by  the  unexpected 
sight  of  a  sweet  face  at  the  window;  an  instant  later 
and  there  was  a  dear  one  at  the  door ;  and  by  the  time 
he  had  hurriedly  reined  in  and  swung  himself  from 
the  saddle,  there  was  a  fair  form  at  the  gateway  to 
greet  him  home  once  more. 

One  quick,  searching  glance  into  the  sweet  face  be 
fore  him  as  the  welcoming  hand  was  extended  in 
cordial  greeting,  was  enough.  That  unmistakable  love- 
light  in  his  dear  one's  eyes  could  never  have  beamed 
for  him  had  she  been  the  affianced  of  another ;  and  the 
peace  of  blessed  certainty  at  last  filled  the  heart  of  the 
long  anxious  lover. 

Beckoning  the  officious  sister-in-law — the  interested 
and  zealous  champion  of  his  suit — aside  for  a  moment 
as  they  entered  the  house,  the  grateful  man,  with 
heartfelt  effusiveness,  thanked  her  for  her  thoughtful- 
ness  and  most  acceptable  arrangement;  called  her  the 
best  sister  in  the  world,  and  magnanimously  set  her 
mind  at  rest  by  assuring  her  that  her  wishes  for  action 
in  a  certain  matter  should  be  carried  out  before  an 
other  sunrise. 

Under  such  exhilarating  conditions,  the  trio  dinner 
was,  of  course,  charming.  The  evening  was  a  heav 
enly  one;  and  as  they  sauntered  home  past  midnight 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  139 

from  Hattie  Lindsay's  Farewell,  Mrs.  Nichols — whose 
good  offices  had  not  yet  been  quite  all  performed — 
cleverly  brought  up  the  subject  of  croquet  by  moon 
light.  "We  did  miss  you  so  last  Monday  evening, 
Clayton,"  said  she.  "Didn't  we,  Gertie";  diplomatic 
ally  calling  forth  the  sentiments  of  their  guest  upon  the 
subject. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  the  girl,  heartily.  "Your 
head  would  have  been  quite  turned,  I'm  afraid,  Mr. 
Nichols,  if  you  could  have  heard  the  universal  griev 
ing  at  your  absence." 

"Case  of  'distance  lends  enchantment,'  I  presume'' ; 
and  the  gratified  young  man  laughed.  Then  quickly : 
"But  what's  to  hinder  us  having  a  game,  just  one,  now, 
before  we  retire  ?  'Twill  be  the  finest  kind  of  a  night 
cap  after  that  rich  supper.  Besides,  there  won't  be 
many  more  chances  for  moonlight  games;  the  nights 
will  be  dark  again  soon." 

"That's  a  fact,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Nichols.  Continu 
ing, — with  even  more  than  her  every-day  enthusiasm — 
"Why,  yes;  let's  play."  And  without  waiting  for  any 
possible — though  of  course,  very  improbable — objec 
tions  from  their  visitor,  she  hurried  up  the  steps  of 
the  veranda,  which  they  had  reached,  and  began  hand 
ing  out  the  necessary  equipment  for  the  proposed 
game.  Half  way  to  the  grounds,  however,  the  satis 
fied  chaperon  suddenly  faced  about  and  left  them ;  and 
in  that  instant  Clayton  Nichols  first  realized  with  what 
a  real  jewel  of  a  sister-in-law  he  was  blessed. 


140  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"What!  aren't  you  going  to  play  too,  Mrs.  Nichols?" 
called  Gertrude,  stopping  in  surprise. 

"No,  dear;  not  this  time."  The  laugh  that  accom 
panied  her  hostess'  words  was  a  very  suggestive  one, 
as  she  added,  "Three,  I  fancy,  would  prove  a  crowd." 
And  smiling  contentedly  and  with  a  merry  twinkle  in 
her  eye,  that  astute  little  body  hastened  back  to  the 
house,  murmuring  ecstatically  as  she  went,  "Croquet 
fiddlesticks!  the  psychological  moment  has  arrived ! 
O,  if  Georgie  were  only  here !" 

"Out  on  a  lawn,  twixt  the  night  and  day, 

Went  a  maid  and  a  man.     I  said,  'Which  way?' 

And  they  both  replied,  'croquet;  croquet/ 

Of  mallets  and  balls  the  usual  display; 

The  hoops  all  stood  in  arch  array ; 

And  I  said  to  myself,  soon  we'll  see  croquet." 

"But  the  mallets  and  balls  unheeded  lay; 

And  the  maid  and  the  man  side  by  side  sat  they. 

And  I  thought  to  myself,  is  that  croquet? 

I  saw  the  scamp — it  was  bright  as  day — 

Put  his  arm  'round  her  waist  in  a  loving  way; 

And  he  squeezed  her  hand.     Was  that  croquet?" 

"While  the  red  rover  rolled  all  forgotten  away, 
He  whispered  all  that  a  lover  should  say; 
And  kissed  her  lips.     What  a  queer  croquet! 
Silent  they  sat  'neath  the  moon's  bright  ray, 
And  I  knew  by  her  blushes   she  had  said  not  nay ; 
And  I  thought  in  my  heart,  now  that's  croquet.'' 


A  SUSPENSEFUL  WEEK  141 

Later — the  very  unimportant  detail  of  just  how 
much  later,  the  writer  was  never  able  to  definitely 
learn,  but  some  later — the  happy  lover  whispered, 
"Shall  we  go  down  to  the  wharf  for  a  moment,  sweet 
heart?  I've  something  to  show  you  there." 

Disengaging  his  arm  from  the  girl  for  a  moment  as 
they  reached  the  landing,  Clayton  took  from  his  ring 
a  key  which,  stooping,  he  fitted  to  the  lock  of  boat- 
house  number  two — several  times  referred  to  in  an 
earlier  chapter — and  as  the  fastening  sprung  back, 
threw  wide  open  the  door  with  a  gesture  which  plainly 
indicated  an  expected  exclamation  of  surprise  at  the 
denouement;  for  there,  plainly  revealed  by  the  bright 
moonlight,  hung  the  'Gertie/ 

But  the  tables  were  clearly  turned;  no  such  ex 
clamation  was  forthcoming;  and  as  he  stepped  quickly 
back  and  again  encircled  his  companion  with  his  arm, 
drawing  her  tenderly  to  his  side,  the  surprise  was 
upon  his  part;  for  he  found  her  to  be  struggling  to 
repress  some  emotion  which  he  could  njeither  under 
stand  nor  account  for. 

Gently  raising  the  face  which  she  had  purposely 
averted  from  him,  the  puzzled  lover  asked  anxiously, 
"What  is  it,  little  one?  Doesn't  it  please  you,  or  was 
I  too  presumptuous?" 

"O,  no,  no;  it  isn't  that!"  and  the  happy  girl  now 
laughed  outright,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  longer  conceal 
her  merriment.  "But — but — why,  you  see,  dearest, 
I've  known  about  it  all  the  time !" 


142  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

For  just  one  short,  incredulous  moment,  did  Clay 
ton  Nichols  hold  his  betrothed  at  arm's  length,  study 
ing  the  droll  expression  upon  her  child-like  face ;  then, 
"You  little  witch!"  he  exclaimed;  straining  her  to  his 
bosom,  while  he  rained  kisses  upon  lip,  and  cheek,  and 
brow. 

'Farewell  to  dreams  of  Empire/  once  chuckled  the 
far-seeing  Prince  Metternich  with  sardonic  glee,  as 
L'Aiglon  and  his  beloved  Fanny  rushed  into  each 
others'  arms.  'Farewell  to  dreams  of  study  with 
friends  in  Paris,  for  Gertrude  Courtney  Warfield!' 
sang  the  twinkling,  morning  stars,  at  this  interesting 
point  in  our  story. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING. 

"But  only  the  proud  sister  knew  *  *  * 
that  every  stroke  of  the  pencil,  every  touch  of 
the  brush,  had  been  an  outpouring  of  undying 
love." 

A  very  clear  old  world  is  this ! 

Dear,  for  its  cherished  hours  of  bliss; 

Its  treasured  stores  of  gladness. 

A  dear  old  world?  Yes.  And  yet,  how  often  does 
the  joy  in  one  heart  rise,  Phoenix-like,  out  of  the 
ashes  of  extinguished  hope  in  the  heart  of  another; 
so  that  we  long  for  that  better  country,  where  happi 
ness  shall  be  universal. 

Now  Gertrude  Warfield  was  neither  a  coquette  nor 
a  flirt,  as  the  reader  already  knows.  It  was  therefore 
due  to  no  wish  or  effort  upon  her  part  that  in  Jack 
Lindsay's  heart  an  over-mastering  love  for  herself  had 
found  lodgment.  Nor  was  the  girl  in  the  least  degree, 
suspectful  of  the  fact,  for  her  opinion  of  her  own 
charms  was  a  very  modest  one,  and  he  had  kept  his 
lover-like  inclinations  well  in  check.  Their  intimacy 
had  proven  a  real  delight,  and  as  a  most  dear  man 
friend,  he  certainly  held  first  place  in  her  thoughts. 


144  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Her  contemplated  trip  abroad  with  the  Armstrongs 
had  been  talked  of  continually  between  them,  and  to 
their  meeting  in  Paris  a  few  months  later,  Jack  was 
of  course  looking  deliriously  forward  with  the  most 
utter  confidence  as  an  absolute  certainty;  and  once 
there,  "she  will  stay";  was  his  unvarying  self-confident, 
self -satisfying  assertion  upon  the  subject.  He  recog 
nized  in  Clayton  Nichols,  of  course,  a  rival,  but  he  also 
knew  that,  as  yet,  no  engagement  existed  between  the 
two,  and  the  girl's  expected  long  absence  from  Denver 
he  considered  as  good  evidence  that  none  was  immi 
nent; — it  is  always  so  easy  to  make  one's  self  believe 
that  which  one  wants  to.  So  that  she  come  abroad 
free  was  all  the  infatuated  young  man  deemed  neces 
sary  to  the  successful  termination  of  his  intended  suit. 

'Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast' ;  and  Jack 
Lindsay  had  chosen  to  fill  himself  with  such  an  excess 
of  optimism  in  this  matter,  that  he  was  leaving  the 
girl  with  virtually  no  misgivings  as  to  the  opportuni 
ties  of  the  future,  and  absolutely  none  as  to  the  satis 
factory  ending  of  his  love  affair.  It  would  therefore 
well  nigh  bankrupt  our  language  to  fully  set  forth  the 
extent  and  force  and  awfulness  of  the  shock  received 
by  him  on  the  morning  following  the  happy  event 
recorded  in  the  closing  pages  of  the  preceding  chapter. 

Hattie  and  he  having  run  over  to  the  Nichols'  place 
for  a  goodbye  call,  had  found  its  notably  cheerful  little 
mistress  in  a  state  of  happy,  nervous  excitement  well 
nigh  bordering  on  hysteria.  Greetings  had  barely  been 


A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING  145 

exchanged  between  them  before  they  were  informed 
by  her  of  the  good  news ;  so  she  termed  it,  with — God 
forgive  her — a  very  patent  tinge  of  exultation,  im 
possible  of  concealment. 

"The  happy  couple,"  so  she  ran  on,  "had  taken  an 
early  morning  row  in  the  'Gertie' — the  dearest  little 
Whitehall — just  launched  this  morning.  Hadn't  they 
seen  them  go  by?  No?  O,  she  supposed  they  had 
slept  later  than  usual  on  account  of  the  party  which 
had  kept  them  up  so  late,  and  at  which  we  all  did  have 
such  a  splendid  time."  Returning  to  her  subject;  "the 
lovers",  so  they  were  told,  "had  gone  down  to  inform 
Mrs.  Armstrong  of  their  engagement  and  get  the  ap 
proval  which  was  certain  to  follow  her  knowledge 
of  it;  for  it  had  long  been  the  dearest  wish  of  that 
lady's  heart  that  Gertie  and  Clayton  should  marry. 
She  herself  was  simply  wild  over  it,"  she  declared, 
"and  Georgie  would  be  the  happiest  man  alive  when 
the  news  reached  him.  O,  Gertie  was  such  a  darling! 
such  a  perfect  angel  of  a  girl!  didn't  they  think  the 
same?  She  felt  sure  they  must,  for  everybody  who 
knew  her  did.  Clayton  simply  idolised  her!  The 
ring  was  superb!  They  would  probably  be  married 
some  time  during  the  coming  Winter;  she  hoped 
so,  for  she  didn't  approve  of  long  engagements.  She 
was  so  sorry  that  they  couldn't  be  here  for  the  wed 
ding  ;  not  here  in  Denver,  she  didn't  mean ;  she  should 
insist  upon  its  taking  place  in  Chicago,  for  it  was  but 
right  that  Clayton  should  be  married  from  his 


146  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

brother's  home.  She  had  it  all  planned  just  how  every 
thing  must  come  off.  She  thought  they  would  travel 
for  a  year,  probably,  and  how  perfectly  delightful  it 
would  be  for  them  all  to  meet  after  a  while  in  Paris. 
She  intended  to  take  Gertie  back  home  with  her  next 
month;  O,  how  she  would  enjoy  helping  select  the 
trousseau !  She  had  been  so  happy  ever  since  they 
confided  in  her  this  morning,  that  she  could  hardly 
contain  herself!  There!  she  heard  oars  now!  they 
were  coming!"  And  unable  to  sit  still  longer,  their 
agitated  young  hostess  rushed,  beaming  with  delight, 
to  the  hall  door,  which  she  threw  wide  open  to  admit 
the  engaged  couple. 

Now  Mrs.  Nichols  was  by  no  means,  naturally,  an 
unkind  or  cruel  woman.  Although  the  much  wished 
for  consummation  of  her  brother-in-law's  love  affair 
had  given  rise  to  a  momentary  feeling  of  exultation 
over  Jack  Lindsay — and  even  more  particularly  over 
the  sister  whose  management  of  his  campaign  had 
been  such  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  to  her — not  for  worlds 
would  she  have  inflicted  on  the  young  man  such  suf 
fering  as  the  intelligence  just  conveyed  had  done.  A 
thunderbolt  out  of  a  cloudless  sky  could  not  have  been 
more  astounding,  nor  have  fallen  upon  him  with  a 
more  stunning  blow,  than  had  her  first  words  at  their 
uttering;  for  they  had  seemed  to  grip  his  love-dis 
tended  heart  like  a  vice.  He  felt  the  blood  leave  it  in 
a  great  wave,  only  to  rush  instantly  back  again,  bring- 


A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING  147 

ing  with  it  the  color  from  his  cheeks  and  lips.  A  cold 
perspiration  started  from  his  every  pore ;  his  confused 
brain  seemed  to  reel;  and  it  was  only  by  clutching 
momentarily  at  the  back  of  the  chair  upon  which  he 
was  about  to  seat  himself,  that  he  was  prevented  from 
falling  to  the  floor.  His  perturbation  was  unnoticed 
by  their  hostess  however,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  the 
recital  of  her  engrossing  tale;  and  by  a  mighty  effort 
— which,  in  a  dumb  sort  of  a  way  he  understood  to  be 
necessary — Jack  manfully  mastered  his  emotion  for 
the  time,  and  gave  no  outward  sign  of  the  ordeal 
through  which  he  was  passing.  After  her  very  first 
utterance,  however,  the  jubilant  words  had  fallen  upon 
deaf  ears,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  As  though 
emanating  from  some  far-away  corner  he  seemed  to 
hear  the  woman's  voice,  and  was  even  dimly  conscious 
of  a  feeling  of  gratitude  that  she  continued  to  do  the 
talking  in  such  a  way  that  no  answers  were  required 
of  him;  also  of  thankfulness  for  the  return  of  the 
betrothed  ones,  that  he  might  get  it  all  over  with  and 
go  home.  But  after  he  had  mechanically  arisen  at 
their  entrance  and  shaken  hands  with  Clayton,  and 
with  a  sickly  attempt  at  a  smile  had  called  him  'a-lucky 
fellow/  as  Gertie — more  radiantly  beautiful  than  ever 
in  the  first  flush  of  her  great,  new-found  happiness — 
came  forward  in  her  sweetly  modest  way  to  receive 
his  felicitations,  a  full  realization  of  what  had  hap 
pened  ;  what  it  all  meant  to  him,  suddenly  swept  over 


148  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  enlightened  young  man.  As  their  hands  met  again, 
for  an  instant  his  heavy-laden  heart  seemed  to  arouse 
itself  from  the  stupor  which  had  fallen  upon  it;  there 
was  one  big  throb,  a  struggle,  a  gasp;  then — numb 
ness;  deadness;  lead. 

Warmly  and  sincerely,  but  with  a  gaiety  which  it 
had  been  hard  indeed  for  her  to  assume,  the  sister's 
good  wishes  and  congratulations  were  quickly  offered ; 
after  which,  with  the  plea  of  a  little  more  packing  yet 
to  be  done,  she  considerately  hastened  their  adieus, 
and  arm  in  arm,  brother  and  sister  re-crossed  the 
lawn  to  their  own  home. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  between  them;  the  actual 
suffering  of  the  one,  and  the  sympathetic  suffering 
of  the  other,  making  speech  impossible.  But  as  the 
necessity  for  the  maintaining  of  appearances  ceased 
with  the  closing  of  their  own  door  behind  them,  the 
disappointed  lover  sank  into  a  hall  chair,  and  with  a 
heartrending  groan,  buried  his  wan,  drawn  face  within 
his  hands. 

"Drink  this,  dear,"  coaxed  the  thoughtful  sister  a 
moment  later,  as  she  raised  her  brother's  head  and 
placed  to  his  lips  a  soothing  draught  which  she  had 
quickly  brought,  "and  then  let  me  put  you  on  the  couch 
for  a  while." 

"Thank  you,  Sis,  but  upstairs,  please ;  I  want  to  be 
alone,"  returned  the  other  very  quietly,  as  he  handed 
back  the  glass  which  he  had  obediently  drained;  and 


A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING  149 

then  rising  wearily  to  his  feet,  suffered  himself  to  be  as 
sisted  to  his  room,  into  a  lounging  robe  and  slippers, 
and  placed  upon  a  couch.  And  when  the  loving  sis 
ter — having  darkened  the  room  in  the  hope  of  induc 
ing  sleep — bent  over  with  a  kiss  of  sympathy,  as  he 
pressed  her  hand  gratefully  he  murmured,  "What 
would  I  do  without  my  good  sister  now?  Guard  my 
secret,  dear,  and  don't  hear  to  any  change  in  our  plans 
because  of  this.  I  must  get  away;  you  understand." 
And  with  a  low,  dry  sob,  the  unhappy  fellow  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall. 

Jack  had  been  taken  with  a  sudden  dizziness  and 
headache,  so  the  parents  were  told  upon  their  return 
from  their  daily  morning  drive  and  visit  to  the  injured 
miners,  a  couple  of  hours  later.  He  was  taking  a  nap 
and  didn't  want  to  be  called  for  luncheon;  she  had 
given  him  a  bromide  and  thought  he'd  be  all  right 
when  he  awoke. 

Sudden  attacks  of  illness  were  so  unusual  for  Jack 
Lindsay,  however,  that  much  anxiety  was  felt  by  both 
parents  at  the  really  sick  appearance  of  their  son, 
when  he  joined  them  a  little  later;  but  to  their  immed 
iate  urging  that  his  departure  be  postponed  a  few  days, 
he  would  not  listen  for  a  moment.  "It  was  but  an 
attack  of  indigestion,"  so  he  assured  them.  "He  had 
not  been  feeling  quite  up  to  concert  pitch  for  a  few 
days,  anyway,  and  the  rich,  late  supper  of  the  night 
before  had  knocked  his  stomach  out.  The  week  in 


150  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  KIRE 

the  saddle  and  the  sea  air,  would  put  him  in  fine  shape 
by  the  time  he  got  back  to  work;  and  in  fact,  he  half 
believed  the  simple  getting  to  work  again  was  what 
he  needed  more  than  anything  else ;  he'd  been  loafing 
too  long ;  it  didn't  agree  with  him ;  his  head  was  get 
ting  congested  with  the  surfeit  of  matter  waiting  for 
expression,  and  that  had  no  doubt  helped  to  bring  on 
the  attack." 

But  neither  the  week  in  the  saddle,  nor  the  en 
suing  voyage,  nor  the  change  of  scene  and  sur 
roundings  availed  in  Jack  Lindsay's  case ;  for  while 
'hope  deferred  makes  the  heart  sick,'  hope  anni 
hilated  at  one  fell,  unexpected  blow,  often  comes 
very  near  to  taking  its  life.  The  Tantalus  cup 
of  nectar,  into  the  enticing  foam  upon  whose  sur 
face  he  had  been  permitted  for  a  few,  brief  weeks 
to  thrust  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  confidently  trust 
ing  to  a  kinder  fate  for  future  copious  draughts 
with  which  to  slake  his  growing  thirst,  had  been  sud 
denly  and  irrecoverably  lowered  out  of  his  reach; 
killing  the  fires  of  hope  which  had  burned  so  fiercely 
within  his  breast.  And  although,  for  his  loved  sister's 
sake,  he  succeeded  in  pulling  himself  together  (after 
a  fashion)  to  the  end  of  their  journey,  the  burden  at 
length  became  too  heavy ;  and  during  the  severe  illness 
which  soon  followed  their  arrival  in  Paris,  his  delirium 
was  all  about  'glorious  eyes' ;  and  'brilliant  stars' ;  and 
'soft  moonbeams' ;  and  'Springtime;  sweet,  promising 
Springtime.' 


A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING  151 

Some  sage  has  written,  'there  are  two  ways  for  a 
man  to  feel  when  God  has  denied  him  the  rights  of 
love ;  he  can  either  change  to  a  beast  of  passion,  or  he 
can  keep  safe  armored  in  just  the  chivalry  of  love ;  as 
the  knights  of  old  did,  when  they  made  a  vow,  tied 
a  lady's  glove  upon  the  tops  of  their  helmets  and  rode 
forth  in  battle.'  Jack  Lindsay  chose  the  latter. 

Visitors  to  the  exhibition  the  following  year  would 
return  again  and  again  to  gaze  at  and  admire  a  canvas 
entitled  Springtime ;  and  to  wonder  at  the  strange,  yet 
splendid  conception  and  marvelous  execution,  of  a 
picture  so  void  of  all  the  usual  and  helpful  accessories. 
There  was  no  green  field  broidered  with  wild  flowers, 
through  which  a  brook  raced  swiftly  and  merrily 
along,  as  if  in  sheer  abandon  of  delight  at  its  release 
from  the  Storm-king's  icy  grasp.  There  were  no  song 
birds  flitting  between  leaving  trees,  trilling  their 
thanksgivings  for  the  return  of  Spring,  or  hopping 
from  bough  to  bough  seeking  for  places  to  build  their 
homes.  There  were  no  flowing  locks  and  light  drap 
eries,  gently  stirred  into  motion  by  a  passing  breeze. 
But  instead,  there  was  the  figure  of  a  beautiful  young 
girl,  clad  in  a  simple  costume  of  embroidered  white 
duck  edged  with  blue,  standing  at  the  upper  end  of 
a  croquet  field,  and  holding  in  her  hand  a  blue  striped 
mallet,  upon  the  handle  of  which  she  lightly  leaned. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  least  appropriate,  sugges 
tive,  or  helpful  in  the  representation,  save  the  refresh- 


152  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ing  youthfulness  apparent  in  every  curve  of  the 
slender,  graceful  figure;  but  it  was  through  the  face 
of  the  girl  that  the  artist  had  so  truthfully  and  vividly 
portrayed  his  subject. 

The  smile  of  Spring  was  upon  the  lips.  The  fresh 
ness  and  fairness  of  Spring  were  in  the  velvety  soft 
ness  and  delicate  coloring  of  the  complexion.  The 
moods  of  Spring  were  in  the  expressive  brown  eyes; 
which  even  as  one  gazed,  seemed  suddenly  to  change 
from  gay  to  grave.  The  sunshine  of  Spring  glinted 
from  the  golden  hair,  which  framed  the  oval  face  like 
an  aureole.  The  very  joy  of  living  which  beamed 
from  the  countenance,  bespoke  the  music  of  Spring 
within  the  heart;  while  an  atmosphere  of  the  gentle 
charm  and  promise  of  Spring's  sweet  young  life, 
seemed  to  emanate  from  and  surround  the  entire 
figure. 

So  perfect,  so  natural  were  the  tints,  that  the  flesh 
seemed  fairly  to  pulsate  with  life;  the  eyelids  to 
quiver;  the  blood  to  course  through  the  delicate  blue 
veins  upon  the  temples.  In  short,  so  life-like  was  the 
picture  as  to  be  almost  startling;  it  was  difficult  to 
believe  that  some  exquisitely  fair  young  creature  had 
not  stepped  behind  an  empty  frame,  to  trick  the  be 
holder. 

Men  spoke  of  the  treatment  of  the  subject  as  un 
conventional,  bizarre;  the  work,  superb;  that  of  a 
master  hand ;  a  genius ;  and  they  began  to  inquire  who 


A  WONDERFUL  PAINTING  153 

the  talented  artist  and  the  beautiful  model  should  be; 
and  to  speculate  as  to  the  inspiration  of  the  thing. 

But  only  the  proud  sister  knew  of  the  heart-throes 
out  of  which  it  had  been  conceived  and  born;  that  it 
was  the  reproduction  of  an  image  indelibly  graven 
upon  the  heart;  and  that  every  stroke  of  the  pencil, 
every  touch  of  the  brush,  had  been  an  outpouring  of 
undying  love. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON. 

"  'Did  you  see  that  wink'?  he  asked  with  mock 
seriousness.     *  *     'Another     Summer    troth; 

by  Jingo'!" 

Since  this  is  a  tale  of  many  loves,  we  must  now 
leave  the  Paris  studio  and  salon,  and  journey  back  to 
the  picturesque  spot  from  whence  we  wandered. 
Shifting  the  theatre  of  action,  however,  from  the 
upper  to  the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  we  must  also  roll 
back  the  calendar  to  that  July  morning  of  the  pre 
ceding  year,  when  two  other  young  people  in  whom 
we  are  equally  interested,  talked  together  upon  this 
world-absorbing,  age-absorbing  topic.  What  of  joy 
or  of  sorrow,  of  satisfaction  or  of  disappointment  has 
the  intervening  lapse  of  time  vouchsafed  to  them? 

Now  men  love  to  love ;  women  to  be  loved ;  and  the 
sumum  bonum  of  love  affairs  for  both,  is  that  they 
afford  these  blissful  experiences.  Although  Harold 
Gardiner's  avowal  of  love  had  found  no  answering 
echo  in  Margaret  Armstrong's  heart,  yet,  being  a  man, 
he  was  nevertheless  happy  in  just  the  loving  of  the 
girl,  as  he  had  been  for  months  before.  In  addition, 
his  fears  as  to  her  love  having  already  been  given  to 
another  had  been  set  at  rest  by  the  disclosure,  and  he 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  155 

was  therefore  in  a  very  hopeful  and  still  happier  frame 
of  mind  than  before  speaking. 

Margaret's  expressed  surprise  at  his  ardent  con 
fession  had  not  been  in  the  least  feigned;  there  had 
been  nothing  of  the  conventional — 'O,  this  is  so 
sudden'  about  it,  at  all ;  for  it  had  in  truth  been  a 
most  undreamed  of  revelation.  Yet,  being  a  woman, 
its  effect  had  been  to  fill  her  heart  with  a  great  hap 
piness,  which  had  in  turn  inspired  her  to  a  new 
warmth  and  tenderness  of  manner. 

Casual  acquaintances  frequently  thought  the  girl's 
nature  a  cold  one;  so  dignified  was  she,  and  reserved 
with  them;  but  this  was  a  misconception  of  character 
which  vanished  upon  closer  intimacy,  for  she  was  a 
girl  who  wore.  One  had  to  know  Margaret  well  to 
thoroughly  appreciate  her;  never  did  a  warmer  heart 
than  hers  beat  in  any  breast.  It  was  therefore  a  very 
happy  looking  young  couple  that  continued  homeward 
from  the  spring  at  which  we  parted  with  them  on  that 
eventful  morning. 

As  they  neared  the  end  of  the  trail,  the  sound  of 
hoof-beats  coming  up  the  road  opposite  fell  upon  their 
ears.  "That's  probably  Will,  now!"  exclaimed  the 
girl,  quickening1  her  steps.  And  true  enough,  as  they 
emerged  into  the  open  a  few  moments  later,  horse 
and  rider  coming  suddenly  into  view  proved  her  sur 
mise  to  have  been  a  correct  one. 

Now  as  far  as  Margaret  Armstrong  knew,  was  real 
ly  aware  at  the  time,  she  had  spoken  truthfully  to 


156  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Harold  Gardiner  when  she  disclaimed  being  already 
in  love.  No  girl,  however,  is  wholly  insensible  to 
masculine  admiration ;  and  during  the  week's  associa 
tion  of  the  previous  Winter  which  had  been  respon 
sible  for  the  birth  of  the  tender  passion  in  Willard 
Manning's  heart, — of  which  we  have  previously  writ 
ten — all  unrealized  by  herself,  virile  seeds  had  also 
been  sown  in  her  own ;  capable,  under  favoring  condi 
tions,  of  maturing  into  a  soul-satisfying  harvest  of 
love. 
But: 

Big  aches  from  little  toe-corns  grow ; 
And  destinies,  for  weal  or  woe, 
Oft  hang  upon  a  word. 

Little  recked  the  talkative  Mrs.  Nichols  of  the  con 
struction  to  be  put  upon  her  words  by  one  of  her  audi 
tors,  nor  of  the  consequences  thereof,  when  she  jok 
ingly  accused  their  gallant  escort  upon  the  train,  of 
"being  in  love," — as  the  reader  will  now  recall  her 
having  done.  "Some  Chicago  friend  of  hers,  I  sup 
pose,  since  she  seems  to  know  all  about  it" ;  was  the 
conclusion  to  which  the  surprised  Margaret  had  im 
mediately  jumped,  it  will  be  remembered;  and  the 
fact  of  the  man's  occasional  trips  to  the  distant  city, 
such  as  the  one  just  then  ended,  certainly  seemed  to 
lend  color  to  the  conjecture.  This  presumption  had 
remained  unchanged;  and  as  she  noted  the  very  im 
posing  appearance  presented  by  the  approaching 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  157 

horseman,  there  was  within  her — had  she  but  under 
took  to  analyze  the  emotion — a  momentary  feeling 
strongly  resembling  jealousy  of  this  supposed  East 
ern  inamorata. 

"How  proud  she  must  be  of  him!''  was  the  admir 
ing  thought  which  flashed  instantly  through  the  mind 
of  the  girl.  And  not  without  reason;  for  Willard 
Manning  was  a  big,  sturdy,  athletic  fellow ;  a  splendid 
specimen,  both  naturally  and  by  cultivation,  of  the 
genus  homo.  He  was  also  upon  all  occasions  an 
exquisite  in  the  matter  of  dress;  and  now,  in  fault 
lessly  fitting  corduroys  and  leggings  almost  matching 
his  Chestnut  in  color,  and  the  ease  and  grace  with 
which  he  tent  himself  to  its  every  motion, — for  he 
was  a  fine  equestrian — the  young  man  appeared  al 
most  a  part  of  the  beautiful  animal  which  he  sat  so 
superbly;  and  his  commanding  presence  was  just  such 
as  might  evoke  that  proud  admiration  which  is  always 
an  important  factor  in  the  love  of  a  girl  of  the  Mar 
garet  Armstrong  type. 

But  a  few  paces  separated  them  as  they  caught 
sight  of  each  other,  and  Willard  had  brought  his 
horse  to  a  quick  standstill  and  dismounted  ere  these 
were  covered  by  the  pedestrians. 

"Speak  of  angels!"  exclaimed  Margaret  gaily,  as 
they  shook  hands;  "Harry  and  I  thought  it  was  you 
as  soon  as  we  heard  the  horse.  We've  been  gather 
ing  some  ferns  for  Mamma  up  at  the  spring.  I'm 
awfully  glad  to  see  you,  Will !  what  sort  of  a  trip  up 


158  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

did  you  have?  Ours  was  a  perfectly  grand  one!" 
Now  this  latter  acknowledgment  by  the  girl  was 
not  at  all  such  an  one  as  the  new  arrival  could  have 
wished  to  hear.  It  would  have  been  infinitely  more 
flattering,  not  to  say  reassuring,  to  have  been  told 
that  he  had  been  missed — that  the  full  enjoyment  of 
the  trip  had  been  impossible  because  of  his  absence — 
that  she  had  been  counting  the  hours,  minutes,  even, 
until  he  should  arrive.  Something,  anything  of  this 
sort  would  have  been  so  gratifying  and  comforting; 
but  to  learn  that  the  lack  of  his  company  had  in  no 
wise  lessened  her  enjoyment,  was  very  disillusioning 
to  say  the  least.  However,  he  could  not  have  ad 
vanced  a  single  good  reason  to  himself  for  having 
expected  it  to  be  different,  although  he  had  been  feed 
ing  upon  the  belief  of  having  created  a  very  favorable 
impression — he  had  certainly  striven  so  to  do — during 
the  two  days  spent  together  prior  to  her  departure 
for  the  mountains ;  he  now  feared  that  he  had  taken 
himself  too  seriously  in  that  respect.  Moreover,  the 
meeting  with  the  couple  just  where  he  did,  was  a 
little  disquieting,  for  he  knew  that  Fern  Spring  was 
a  favorite  trysting  place  for  the  lovers  of  the  camp; 
and  then  there  was  that  undefinable  something  again 
in  Harold  Gardiner's  manner  towards  the  girl — which 
to  him  always  seemed  to  evince  a  sense  of  proprietor 
ship — to  annoy. 

Of  one  thing  however,  he  was  certain;  Margaret 
was  now  more  charming  than  ever;  and  truly,  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  159 

great  happiness  with  which  the  event  of  the  morning- 
had  filled  her  heart,  did  appear  to  have  imparted  a 
soft,  a  heavenly  grace  to  her  queenly  beauty. 

Now  love,  we  know,  feeds  upon  contradictions ;  con 
sequently,  while  Willard  Manning's  spirits  fell  a  notch 
or  two  because  of  these  unexpectedly  unsatisfactory 
circumstances,  the  fire  in  his  heart  only  flamed  the 
higher. 

Answering  the  girl's  question  as  to  his  trip,  he  re 
plied,  "I  can't  say  that  mine  was  exactly  'grand,' 
Margaret.  One  doesn't  really  enjoy  such  a  trip  as 
that  alone  you  know;  but  the  goal  was  all  that  I  al 
lowed  myself  to  think  about,  and  that  was  alluring 
enough  to  make  up  for  the  lonesomeness ;  although  I 
confess  I  half  regretted  not  having  come  up  with  the 
rest  of  you,  several  times.  But  I'm  here  now,  as  you 
see,  and  mighty  glad  of  it.  How's  everybody?  And 
when  did  the  caravan  arrive?"  he  asked,  jovially; 
addressing  Harold  Gardiner,  with  whom  he  was  now, 
in  turn,  shaking  hands. 

"Only  last  evening,"  was  the  reply;  "with  all  well. 
And  if  you  could  have  heard  the  ladies  regretting  your 
absence  as  they  did  all  the  way  up,  you'd  have  felt 
abundantly  repaid  for  your  devotion  to  business. 
Nichols  and  I  came  very  near  to  being  jealous" ;  added 
the  other  man,  generously. 

"That's  the  truth,  Will";  put  in  the  girl  promptly. 
"We  did  wish  for  you  and  talk  about  you  continually. 
Didn't  your  ears  burn?" 


160  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Well  now  that  you  remind  me  of  it  Margaret,  I  be 
lieve  they  did ;  and  I  kept  wishing  that  I  could  know 
which  one  of  you  was  taking  my  name  in  vain."  And 
although  the  man  laughed,  there  was  even  more  of 
earnestness  than  jest  in  his  admittance. 

"O,  we'll  all  have  to  plead  guilty  to  that,  I'm  afraid,'' 
replied  Margaret;  "but  Mamma  perhaps  especially." 
Stepping  to  her  mother's  side  upon  the  lawn  to  which 
they  had  by  now  walked,  for  a  good  morning  kiss  and 
inquiry  as  to  how  she  was  feeling. 

"Yes,  Willard,  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  we  all 
wished  that  you  could  have  enjoyed  the  delightful 
trip  up  with  us ;  nor  how  pleased  I  am  to  see  you  this 
morning,  so  soon  after  our  own  arrival;  said  Mrs. 
Armstrong,  pressing  the  young  man's  hand  affection 
ately  as  she  spoke.  "I  feel  as  though  the  family  were 
complete  now.  You  can  find  the  way  up  to  your  old 
room,  can  you?  Everything  is  in  readiness  for  you,  I 
think."  Then  turning  to  Margaret,  "but  where  have 
you  left  Gertie,  daughter?" 

"O,  up  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake,"  laughed  the 
girl;  "need  you  ask,  Mamma?"  Adding,  "I'm  afraid 
we're  doomed  to  see  but  little  of  her  these  days ;  the 
Nichols  family,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  are  going 
to  show  a  disposition  to  monopolize  her,  I  fancy;  we 
left  her  and  Clayton  starting  on  a  game  of  croquet; 
which  I  have  no  doubt  will  prove  exceedingly  inter 
esting  to  them.  We  walked  home  so  as  to  get  you 
those  ferns," — pointing  to  the  mass  which  had  been 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  161 

dropped  a  little  further  out — "aren't  they  beauties? 
You  have  Harry  to  thank  for  the  suggestion?" 

"They  are  indeed,"  replied  the  mother  gratefully, 
"and  I  deeply  appreciate  your  kind  remembrance,  Har 
ry;  I  want  them  to  replace  some  of  Mr.  Armstrong's 
transplanting  which  have  died.  And  now  shall  we 
have  luncheon?"  she  asked;  rising  as  the  new  arrival 
re-appeared,  the  stains  of  travel  removed  and  cordu 
roys  exchanged  for  white  flannels.  "The  bell  has 
already  rung." 

"Norah  evidently  considers  you  the  head  of  the 
house'';  said  Margaret,  as  she  and  Willard  entered 
the  dining  room  together  in  advance  of  the  rest. 

"Norah's  certainly  very  flattering  to  seat  me  at  the 
head  of  the  table,"  returned  her  companion,  shaking 
hands  politely  with  the  maid  as  he  spoke,  and  asking 
how  she  did ;  "and  kind,  beside,  to  put  me  next  you." 

"Isn't  it  all  right,  Miss  Margaret?"  inquired  the  girl 
anxiously.  "Mrs.  Armstrong  said  I  was  to  move  her 
to  the  other  end  as  soon  as  Mr.  Manning  got  here." 

"Why  of  course  it's  all  right,  Norah,  and  particu 
larly  as  it  was  Mamma's  directions";  replied  Mar 
garet,  reassuringly. 

"You're  surely  giving  Will  a  good  training  for  a 
home  of  his  own,  Mamma" ;  she  remarked,  when 
grace  had  been  said. 

"Yes,  and  I  expect  never  to  be  ashamed  of  my 
pupil" ;  replied  her  mother,  proudly. 

"Well  up  to  date  you  certainly  have  no  occasion  to 


162  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

be";  put  in  their  guest,  Mrs.  Gardiner,  warmly;  as 
she  noted  the  neat,  quiet  way  in  which  the  young-  man 
served. 

As  he  smiled  and  bowed  his  appreciation  of  their 
complimentary  remarks,  Willard  began  preparing  the 
fourth  plate.  "Go  easy,  my  friend,  if  that's  for  me"; 
cautioned  the  Rector  quickly;  observing  the  greater 
abundance  with  which  this  plate  was  being  filled. 

"Too  much?"  queried  the  server.  "I  was  merely 
acting  upon  Purcell's  theory  that  pious  folks  are  al 
ways  big  eaters.  No  offence,  I  hope."  Then  jocularly, 
"You  know  he  always  provides  three  times  as  many 
eatables  for  a  clerical  banquet  as  for  any  other." 

"And  how  much  less  drinkables  ?'  threw  back  Mr. 
Gardiner  good  humoredly.  "You  see  the  theory 
proves" — he  added — "that  for  a  good,  dependable 
appetite,  there's  nothing  equal  to  a  conscience  void  of 
offence;  beats  bracers  and  all  the  tonics  in  the  phar- 
macopia" 

"And  thus  ruins  my  business" ;  offered  his  son, 
ruefully. 

"O  you've  plenty  of  other  ways  to  kill  us  off, 
though,  Doctor."  This  from  the  head  of  the  table. 

"Now  I  think  that's  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all !" 
declared  Margaret.  "I  wouldn't  stand  it  if  I  were 
you,  Harry." 

"I'm  not,  Margaret;  sitting  down  to  it,  you  see." 

"How  is  the  trail  now,  daughter?"  here  asked  Mrs. 
Armstrong — a  note  of  unusual  sadness  in  her  tone 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  163 

showing  with  what  associations  in  her  mind  the  place 
was  connected.  "Did  you  find  many  changes  in  it?" 

"No  Mamma,  none  at  all";  replied  the  girl;  "'twas 
just  the  same,  grand,  majestic  calm  there  as  ever.'' 

"Far  from  the  madding  crowd?"  asked  Willard; 
with  a  significant  smile,  and  studying  the  girl's  face 
intently  as  he  spoke.  To  which  she  at  once  made 
answer  airily,  "yes,  completely  so;  we  didn't  meet  a 
soul ;  had  it  to  ourselves  all  the  way." 

"You  probably  didn't  choose  the  right  time  of  day 
for  companions";  returned  her  questioner.  "That's 
the — er — 'meet  me  by  moonlight,  alone,'  walk,  that 
I've  heard  so  much  about  these  recent  years,  isn't  it? 
I'm  afraid  there  was  method  in  their  madness,  Mrs. 
Armstrong'';  he  continued  teasingly.  Now  address 
ing  that  lady,  but  with  a  quizzical  look  at  the  cul 
prits.  "What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"It  does  look  a  trifle  suspicious,  surely";  replied 
the  mother,  shaking  her  head  as  though  a  bit  dubious. 

"There's  nothing  suspicious  about  it  at  all,"  pro 
tested  Margaret.  "We  just  came  that  way  purposely 
to  get  those  ferns  for  Mamma."  Speaking  the  truth, 
we  know,  as  far  as  she  herself  was  concerned,  al 
though  an  uncontrollable  blush  almost  gave  the  lie  to 
her  words. 

"What's  on  the  tapis  for  this  afternoon?"  now  put 
in  Harold  Gardiner,  quickly;  anxious  for  a  change  of 
subject. 

"Well,  I  for  one,  mean  to  take  a  nap  the  first  thing, 


164  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

and  do  a  little  practicing  afterward" ;  spoke  up  Mar 
garet.  Adding — "If  you're  around  then  we  might 
take  up  that  duet." 

"I'll  be  here  any  time  you  say,  Margaret" ;  was  the 
obsequious  reply.  And  while  the  girl  considered,  he 
added — "Father  has  suggested  a  couple  of  hours  fish 
ing;  how  would,  say — four-thirty  do?'' 

"Fine." 

"If  you  don't  feel  the  need  of  a  rest,  Will,  we'd  be 
very  glad  to  have  you  join  us" ;  said  the  young  man, 
cordially,  to  their  newcomer. 

"Thanks ;  yes ;  glad  to  go" ;  returned  Willard.  "I'm 
not  the  least  bit  tired;  a  week  away  from  the  chase 
of  the  almighty  dollar  has  rested  me  all  right.  How 
soon  do  we  start  ?"  he  finished ;  as  they  excused  them 
selves  to  the  ladies  and  left  the  room. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Mamma?''  in 
quired  Margaret,  when  the  gentlemen  had  gone.  "If 
not,  I'd  like  to  take  a  short  nap ;  we  shall  have  a  some 
what  strenuous  evening  at  the  Somerville's,  I  pre- 
-sume;  dancing,  you  know." 

"Nothing,  thanks,  dear" ;  replied  the  mother  sweetly, 
"so  take  a  good  rest;  you  must  be  quite  tired  from 
your  morning's  walk.  Mrs.  Gardiner  and  I  are  going 
to  the  hammocks  for  an  hour  or  two." 

Now  the  girl's  plea  for  a  nap  had  been  largely 
an  excuse  to  retire  to  her  own  room  and  be  alone 
awhile;  for  she  had  much  to  think  about.  The 
relationship  formerly  existing  between  Harold  Gardi- 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  165 

ner  and  herself  was  now  entirely  changed;  and 
she  was  trying  to  adjust  herself  to  the  new  order 
of  things.  They  could  no  longer  meet  as  friends, 
merely.  His  declaration  of  the  morning  had  af 
fixed  the  finis  to  the  opening  chapter  of  their 
book  of  association;  a  second  and  more  advanced 
one  lay  open  before  them,  and  it  remained  for 
her  to  determine  whether  this  should  become  also 
the  last ;  the  closing  one.  Henceforth,  they  must  meet 
as  suitor  and  sought,  or  won.  While  the  knowledge 
that  she  had  inspired  his  love  had  at  first  been  a  very 
sweet  one,  yet  for  the  young  man's  own  sake  the  girl 
now  almost  regretted  that  such  was  the  case;  for  she 
realized  what  a  vitally  important  matter  it  was  to 
him,  and  if  not  returned  might  produce  no  light  con 
sequences.  That  it  was  not  returned  at  that  particu 
lar  time  went  without  saying;  for  as  she  examined 
her  heart,  she  could  discover  there  nothing  deeper  in 
sentiment  than  a  high  regard  for  his  many  noble  quali 
ties,  and  gratitude  for  his  long  continued  kindnesses. 
His  attentions  were  pleasing,  'tis  true,  but  she  could 
not  feel  that  it  would  make  any  material  difference  in 
her  life  were  they  to  cease;  be  withdrawn.  She  be 
lieved  it  might  go  on  without  any  real  or  lasting 
diminution  of  her  happiness,  even  should  he  go  out 
of  it  altogether.  While  she  would  miss  him  in  a 
way,  it  would  not  leave  a  void  such  as  some  other 
mere  friend  might  not  fill.  'This  surely  was  not 
love !"  she  told  herself.  She  knew  well  that  Harold's 


166  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

for  her  was  an  all-absorbing  passion  of  the  heart, 
totally  eclipsing  every  other  emotion,  and  its  perfect 
requittal,  as  necessary  to  the  health,  perhaps  life,  even, 
of  that  heart,  as  sunshine  and  ozone  to  the  health  and 
life  of  the  body.  And  no  meaner  love  could  she  be 
guilty  of  offering  him  in  return.  She  must  learn  to 
love  him  in  that  way.  Yet  heart  and  mind  instantly 
revolted  at  the  thought  of  love  being  cultivated.  "It 
should  spring  spontaneously,"  she  thought,  "and  so 
strong  that  nothing,  not  even  death  itself  could  kill  it ; 
as  her  mother's  for  her  dear  father.  That  was.  love 
such  as  he  deserved,  and  she  must  not  disappoint  him. 
But  why  could  she  not  feel  it  now;  at  once?  Why  was 
not  her  heart  filled  with  just  such  commotion,  tumult, 
as  she  had  looked  upon  in  his,  exposed  to  her  view 
that  morning,  and  which  had  almost  frightened  her 
with  its  intensity?  Was  it  that  she  was  incapable  of 
deep  feeling?  She  could  not  think  so,  for  there  was 
one  whom  she  believed  she  could  have  loved  in  just 
that  tremendous  way.  But  then  he  could  not  have 
returned  it,"  she  mused,  and  thereupon  proceeded  to 
chide  herself  for  disloyalty  both  to  herself  and  lover, 
for  allowing  the  thought  to  even  enter  her  mind. 
Harold  had  been  so  sure  that  her  love  would  awaken 
and  for  him,  that  she  must  make  his  hope  reality. 
"And  it  need  not  be  such  an  impossible  matter  after 
all,"  she  tried  to  believe.  "But  O,  why  had  he  loved 
her,  anyway,  or  at  least,  have  told  her  about  it  just 
now;  she  was  afraid  it  would  spoil  this  Summer  out 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  167 

of  which  she  had  expected  so  much,  for  them  both. 
But  no;  she  would  not  let  it  be  spoiled  for  him,  at 
least;  she  would  try;  yes,  she  would  try!"  And  with 
this  worthy  and  generous  resolve,  the  poor,  worried 
girl  sank  into  a  troubled  slumber. 

Sleep  did  not  dispel  the  unselfish  resolution,  and 
she  awoke  with  a  very  clear  conception  of  what  she 
felt  to  be  her  duty  in  the  premises  and  an  earnest 
wish  and  determination  to  do  it.  To  learn  to  love  her 
lover;  this  was  the  unique  task  that  she  had  set  her 
self  to  accomplish,  and  which  in  the  absence  of  other 
suitors  might  not  have  proven  a  very  difficult  under 
taking;  for  an  adamantine  heart  could  scarcely  have 
withstood  the  young  man's  devotion — he  had  eyes  for 
no  girl  but  herself — and  his  most  delicate  attentions ; 
while  these  were  coupled  also  with  a  religious  adher 
ence  to  his  promise  of  no  further  pressing  of  his  suit 
for  the  time. 

But  there  were  others.  Willard  Manning,  as  we 
know,  did  not  purpose  any  half-hearted  campaign  of 
conquest,  nor  could  dilatory  tactics  be  looked  for  in 
one  of  his  direct  nature ;  and  the  preliminary  skirmish 
was  begun  on  the  very  evening  of  his  arrival ;  at  the 
Somerville  Hop. 

"Don't  you  think  you've  danced  enough  for  a  while, 
Margaret?"  he  asked,  as  he  claimed  the  girl  for  a 
second  and  late  waltz — moreover,  with  more  of  re 
quest  than  of  real  inquiry  in  his  tone  and  manner. 
"Suppose  we  rest  awhile?"  And  although  reason  at 


168  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

once  cautioned  that  to  sit  it  out  might  more  surely 
jeopardize  her  unselfish  resolution  of  the  afternoon, 
there  was  a  compelling  fascination  about  the  man  at 
the  moment  which  would  have  deprived  her  of  the 
will,  even  had  she  felt  the  wish  to  refuse.  He  there 
fore  received  the  very  pleasing  reply,  "Just  as  you 
say,  Will";  and  accepting  his  proffered  arm,  the  girl 
suffered  herself  to  be  led  to  a  seat  upon  the  lantern- 
lighted  veranda. 

Of  course  there  was  no  attempted  love-making,  for 
the  time  was  premature,  the  place  inauspicious.  But 
as  the  young  man  adroitly  talked  of  how  lonely  the 
week  in  town  had  been  after  their  departure,  also  of 
his  long  anticipation  of  her  return  from  school,  and 
of  how  glad  the  prospect  of  her  uninterrupted  pres 
ence  in  the  home  in  future  made  him,  although  she 
took  his  words  in  the  first  instance  as  applying  to 
them  all,  and  in  the  second,  as  but  a  natural  craving 
for  young  companionship  which  would  again  mean 
entertaining  and  life  there, — her  mother  having  with 
drawn  absolutely  from  society  these  many  years — 
nevertheless,  his  words  were  falling  like  the  soft  drop 
pings  of  Hermon's  dew  upon  the  seeds  of  love,  which 
for  months  had  lain  dormant,  deeply  imbedded  in  the 
rich,  mellow,  virgin  soil  of  her  heart,  swelling  them 
to  gradual  fullness.  And  this  expansion  it  was,  which 
gave  rise  to  a  sweet  feeling  of  contentment  and  pleas 
ure  in  his  society,  and  also  of  regret  at  the  interrup 
tion  of  their  tete-a-tete  by  the  approach  of  her  next 
partner. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  169 

Willard  Manning,  however,  was  not  the  only  other 
admirer  with  whom  the  girl's  favors  must  be  divided. 
'Music  hath  charms,'  and  among  the  musical  set  espec 
ially,  of  which  she  was  soon  the  life  and  head — their 
"Prima  Donna"  they  called  her — there  were  besides 
himself,  numerous  other  eligibles  whose  admiration 
was  not  long  a  matter  of  doubt.  And  this  set  were 
much  together;  for,  styling  themselves  the  'Trouba 
dours/  they  would  fill  in  every  evening  not  otherwise 
occupied,  touring  the  lake;  resting  upon  their  oars  at 
each  landing  for  a  while  to  entertain  their  audiences 
upon  lawn  or  porch  with  popular  ballads,  glees,  col 
lege  songs,  or  plantation  melodies,  to  the  tinkle  of 
the  mandolin,  the  twang  of  the  guitar,  or  the  strum 
ming  of  the  banjo;  these  evenings  of  music  being 
really  treats,  since  there  were  among  the  lot  many 
excellent  performers.  Tribute,  in  the  way  of  refresh 
ments,  would  be  levied  at  the  close  of  each  programme, 
with  which  to  wind  up  the  evening  in  an  impromptu 
little  banquet  all  their  own  at  the  'Enchanted  Isle  ;'- 
as  they  euphoniously  dubbed  it — a  pretty  little  wooded 
spot  near  the  center  of  the  lake.  Thus,  as  we  have 
said,  'fun  and  frolic  reigned  supreme.' 

But  a  girl  may  have  too  many  strings  to  her  bow 
sometimes  for  real  comfort.  While  the  affections,  like 
the  physical  nature,  are  not  without  their  hungerings 
and  thirstings,  yet  for  the  satisfaction  of  these  also, 
'enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast' ;  even  better.  Margaret 
Armstrong  soon  realized  this,  when  she  found  the  dis- 


170  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

tractions  of  too  much  attention  interfering  with  the 
accomplishment  of  her  set  purpose;  and  this  realiza 
tion  came  in  time  to  cast  more  or  less  of  a  blight  over 
this  otherwise  perfect  Summer.  There  were  mo 
ments  when  the  girl  honestly  wished  that  she  and 
Harold  Gardiner  could  have  been  transported  to  some 
desert  island,  away  from  them  all.  Not  that  he  suffered 
in  the  least  by  comparison,  but  the  disquieting  fact  was 
being  daily  borne  in  upon  her  that  he  was  no  dearer 
to  her  than  any  of  the  rest;  that  her  feeling  towards 
him  was  friendship,  only;  and  that  love  for  him  was 
not  awakening  into  life  as  he  had  so  confidently  ex 
pected,  and  she,  for  his  sake,  so  fondly  hoped.  This 
unsophisticated  girl  had  yet  to  learn  that  romantic  love 
is  neier,  in  fact  cannot  be  compelled.  For  every  Jill 
there  is  the  Jack ;  for  every  lassie  the  laddie.  Wise  and 
fortunate  is  the  girl  who  both  endeavors  to  and  suc 
ceeds  in  finding  hers,  before  the  forming  of  other  ties 
in  life  shall  have  made  it  forever  too  late ;  for  in  love 
affairs  preeminently,  is  it  true,  that  the  saddest  of  all 
sad  words  are — 'it  might  have  been!  When  they  ex 
press  the  experience  of  any  heart,  real  and  lasting 
happiness — albeit  the  truest  and  highest — can  only  be 
found  in  the  renunciation  of  self  for  the  good  and 
happiness  of  others,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  those 
more  than  compensating  spiritual  aspirations  and 
graces  with  which  a  loving  Father  has  endowed  His 
children ;  for  'An  antidote  grows  near  an  ill,  in  all  His 
ordering.' 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  171 

Harold  Gardiner  at  this  time  seemed  evidently  not 
the  man  intended  by  Nature  for  Margaret  Arm 
strong's  mate;  and  as  she  found  all  her  efforts  to  re 
spond  to  his  love  prove  futile,  her  advance  sympathy 
for  the  inevitable  suffering  which  she  knew  this  dis 
appointment  must  in  time  inflict,  impelled  the  kind- 
hearted  girl  to  a  greater  tenderness  of  manner  in  her 
intercourse  with  him;  which  was  not  only  very  mis 
leading  to  others,  but  harmful  rather  than  otherwise 
to  the  young  man  himself,  since  its  motive  was  mis 
understood. 

As  her  fancied  preference  became  apparent,  he  be 
lieved  himself  about  to  receive  the  reward  for  the 
generosity  and  patience  which  he  had  shown  towards 
the  advances  and  attentions  of  other  gallants.  O,  how 
proud  and  happy  he  now  felt  at  having  fought  down 
the  many  temptations  to  jealousy  which  had  assailed 
him,  instead  of  wronging  the  girl  and  belittling  him 
self  by  yielding  to  them.  He  persuaded  himself  that 
the  return  love  for  which  he  had  pleaded  was  awaken 
ing,  and  the  deep  joy  of  contentment  filled  his  wait 
ing  heart. 

This  interpretation  of  motive  was  an  entirely  erron 
eous  one,  however.  The  truth  was,  Margaret  Arm 
strong's  added  consideration  sprang  partly  from  a 
sense  of  community  of  suffering;  that  'fellow  feeling' 
which  'makes  us  wondrous  kind.'  For  as  we  have 
said,  while  all  her  endeavors  to  find  in  her  heart  a 


172  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

chord  responsive  to  Harold  Gardiner's  had  proven 
futile,  no  better  success  had  attended  her  equally  earn 
est  efforts  to  stifle  a  growing  but  unsought  love  for 
another.  She  despised  herself  for  it,  denounced  it  to 
herself  as  a  violation  of  the  ethics  of  true  woman 
hood,  and  forced  herself  to  believe  that  the  secret  suf 
fering  which  she  was  undergoing  because  of  its  sup 
posedly  hopeless  nature,  was  but  a  just  punishment 
for  her  weakness.  And  thus,  as  the  happiness  of  the 
lover  increased,  that  of  his  loved  one  waned;  both 
upon  his  account  and  her  own. 

Now  it  had  required  but  a  very  few  days  of  re 
newed  association  under  the  same  roof  with  him,  and 
the  attentions  so  pleasingly  delightful,  which  Willard 
Manning  at  once  sought  every  favoring  opportunity  to 
bestow  upon  her,  to  cause  the  swelling  seeds  in  her 
heart  to  burst  into  life ;  and  with  a  pang  both  of  alarm 
and  regret  the  girl  suddenly  understood  that  romantic 
love  had  at  last  awakened  in  her,  and  for  whom.  But 
Margaret's  nature  contained  much  of  the  stuff  of 
which  heroes,  martyrs  are  made;  and  warned  by  the 
sweetness  and  depth  of  passion — that  glorious  flower 
of  love's  beautiful  plant — which  filled  her  heart,  she 
at  once  set  out  to  conquer  it. 

While  her  more  encouraging  manner  towards  the 
acknowledged  lover  from  this  time  misled  but  to  re 
joice,  her  marked  and  suddenly  discouraging  attitude 
towards  himself  was  disappointing  in  the  extreme  to 
the  unacknowledged  one ;  and  made  the  quick  and  ag- 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  j,  173 

gressive  attack  upon  the  citadel  of  her  heart  which  he 
had  intended,  out  of  the  question.  Her  friendliness, 
her  evident  pleasure  in  his  company  was  as  cheeringly 
noticeable  so  long  as  they  were  surrounded  by  others ; 
but  the  desired  and  needed  opportunities  for  tete-a-tete 
she  would  studiously  avoid;  or,  if,  as  occasionally 
happened,  the  young  man's  constantly  exercised  in 
genuity  succeeded  in  securing  for  him  what  seemed 
a  favorable  opening  or  situation,  instantly,  some  ex 
cuse  would  be  trumped  up  for  leaving  him.  Her 
evident  wish  to  escape  him  at  such  times,  together 
with  her  apparent  preference  for  the  society  of  the 
other,  at  length  forced  Willard  Manning  to  the  reluc 
tant  conclusion  that  Harold  Gardiner  was  the  man  of 
her  choice.  Yet  upon  occasion,  seeming  indifference 
to  the  latter  would  again  cause  this  young  man's  ex 
piring  hopes  to  revive. 

But  the  swiftly  passing  weeks  were  hastening  the 
class-man's  play-day  to  a  close.  Several  times  had  he 
attempted  to  engage  the  girl  in  a  second  conversation 
upon  the  subject  so  heavily  weighting  his  heart;  but 
at  each  attempt,  her  pleading,  'Just  a  little  longer, 
please,  Harry' — for  she  would  fain  postpone  the  evil 
day — had  silenced  him. 

The  evening  before  his  departure  had  now  arrived 
however;  that  of  the  day  in  which  had  occurred  the 
serious  accident  at  the  'Alice'  mine, — of  which  the 
reader  has  been  fully  apprised — the  date  also  of  Mrs. 
Nichol's  lawn  fete ;  at  which  croquet  by  moonlight  was 


174  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  be  the  chief  feature  of  entertainment,  it  will  be 
remembered. 

All  through  the  long  Summer  day  had  the  anxious 
young  man  been  endeavoring  to  learn  his  fate,  ac 
cording  to  the  previous  promise  of  the  girl,  yet  upon 
one  pretext  or  another,  it  seemed,  he  had  been  studi 
ously  avoided.  But  as  they  found  themselves  at  last 
together  for  a  moment  at  one  end  of  the  croquet  field 
during  a  game,  wistfully  scrutinizing  the  beautiful  face, 
he  spoke  softly  and  said,  "This  is  my  last  evening  with 
you,  you  know,  Margaret,  and  I  must — '' 

"Yes,  yes,  Harry;  I  know";  interrupted  his  com 
panion  quickly,  though  gently ;  "we'll  talk  at  the  spring 
going  home,  if  you  wish." 

"If  I  wish !"  exclaimed  the  impatient  lover ;  "can  you 
doubt  it?  What  is  it  to  be,  Margaret?"  he  whispered 
imploringly.  "Am  I  to  be  made  the  happiest  or  the 
most  miserable  of  men?" 

"Ssh!"  cautioned  the  girl,  as  another  player  joined 
them ;  stepping  briskly  to  her  wicket  for  the  next  play 
as  she  spoke. 

Now,  as  on  several  other  previous  bright  evenings, 
a  jolly  crowd  of  young  people  from  the  lower  end  of 
the  lake — themselves  among  the  number — had  planned 
for  a  home-going  by  way  of  the  trail, — before  written 
of — and  led  by  the  wag  of  the  colony,  Mr.  Charles 
Chapin,  the  solemn,  old  woods  always  rang  gaily  to 
the  tune  of  their  singing  and  laughter. 

Fern  Spring  was   situated  about  one-third   of  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  175 

distance  from  the  end  of  the  trail.  During  this  Sum 
mer  it  had  been  enclosed  with  a  pretty  rustic  arbor, 
containing  many  little  drinking  cups  of  the  same  at 
tractive  style;  and  when  it  was  reached,  the  customary 
halt  was  called  for  a  rest  upon  its  comfortable  settees 
and  benches  and  to  refresh  themselves  with  the  de 
licious  drink.  Their  usual  master  of  ceremonies  at 
such  times  being  the  irrepressible  Mr.  Charles  Chapin, 
of  whom  we  have  spoken,  while  the  remainder  of  the 
party  disposed  themselves  about  the  arbor,  he  at  once 
began  filling  and  distributing  the  numerous  cups; 
holding  his  own  aloft  for  a  moment  at  the  last,  to 
deliver  himself  of  an  always  expected  harangue. 

"Ho,  all  ye  men  and  maidens !"  he  cried  impres 
sively;  "drink  to  the  many  heart-rending,  hair-rais 
ing,  perspiration-starting,  rock-splitting  Summer 
troths  here  plighted!" — dramatically  pointing  to  a 
slight  crevasse  in  the  wall  of  rock  opposite,  in  con 
firmation  of  his  last  used  adjective.  "Yes,  here,"  he 
continued,  "at  this  very  spot,  depressed  by  the  callous 
knees  of  despairing  lovers,  whereon  I  now  stand.  How 
often  upon  such  occasions  has  the  man  in  the  moon 
winked,  and  then  discreetly  veiled  his  eyes  for  a  mo 
ment  with  the  obscuring  vapor  of  a  passing  cloud ; — as 
I  myself  can  most  truthfully  affirm."  Concluding, 
"Now,  Bob,  let's  hear  from  you." 

When  the  usual  laughter  and  applause  which 
greeted  their  leader's  remarks  had  subsided,  Bob,  one 
of  Gertrude  Warfield's  great  and  open  admirers, 


176  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

caused  much  amusment  by  responding  with — "Long 
live  our  jolly  hostess  of  the  evening,  her  fair  dinner 
guest,  and  the  artist  lover;  but  blarst  him  if  he  ever 
filches  from  our  loved  city  its  prospective  treasure." 

"You  next,  George!"  where-at  one  of  the  young 
members  of  the  Troubadours,  with  a  sweeping  bow  to 
Margaret,  then  delivered  himself  of — "The  beautiful 
prima  donna  in  our  midst;  may  she  win  her  laurels 
without  the  aid  of  the  divorce  court  or  stolen  jewels." 

"Now,  Bert";  next  called  the  toast-master;  and 
without  hesitation,  another  young  sprig  rattled  off — 
"Here's  to  sparkling  water — good  for  wifey,  son  and 
daughter — drink  it  down !"  obeying  his  own  command 
by  draining  his  cup  and  calling  for  another. 

"What  did  you  leave  the  old  man  out  for?"  inquired 
the  leader ;  as  he  re-filled  the  emptied  cups. 

"Had  to ;  wouldn't  fit  in ;  besides,  he  generally  wants 
something  stronger/'  returned  the  youth. 

"Truly,  most  excellent  reasons,  young  sir";  said 
Charlie.  "Now,  Will,"  he  commanded,  "toast  the 
ladies."  Whereupon,  Willard  Manning,  in  none  too 
gracious  a  frame  of  mind  towards  the  opposite  sex 
because  of  Margaret's  disappointing  demeanor  towards 
himself,  in  a  rather  sarcastic  vein  responded  with, 
"The  ladies ;  'in  our  hour  of  ease,' — for  Easter  bonnets 
prone  to  tease.  'When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the 
brow/ — progressive  euchre  claims  them  now,  or  whist 
club  needs  them  at  the  prow." 

This  most  uncomplimentary  allusion  was  of  course 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  177 

greeted  with  a  storm  of  indignant  protest  from  the 
girls  of  the  party.  ''You  were  told  to  toast,  not  roast 
us,  Mr.  Manning !"  "That's  a  libel  on  our  sex !"  "I 
wonder  how  many  refusals  it  took  to  bring  him  to 
that  scandalous  opinion  of  us  ?"  "Why  I  thought  your 
mother  had  him  better  trained  than  that,  Margaret!" 
"You'll  have  to  take  him  in  hand,  that's  sure!"  and 
the  like,  followed  each  other  in  quick  succession. 

"Thanks;  I  most  emphatically  decline  the  honor"; 
laughed  Margaret;  adding,  "for  he  must  surely  be 
an  impossibility,  since  Mamma  has  failed  so  signally." 

"Faith,  but  you're  a  nervy  one,  Will,  to  get  off  the 
like  o'  that  here  and  your  market  not  made  yet !"  com 
mented  the  leader.  Finishing,  "But  truth's  stranger 
than  fiction,  any  day." 

"Well!  it  seems  to  me  that  you're  only  making  a 
bad  matter  worse,  Charlie  Chapin."  The  leader's  sis 
ter  pouted  in  an  aggrieved  manner  as  she  spoke.  "Only 
adding  insult  to  injury." 

Her  brother  hastened  to  apologize.  "I  beg  a  thou 
sand  pardons,  ladies.  No  offence  meant,  I  assure 
you;  but  we  men  have  to  stand  together  you  know, 
to  even  half  way  hold  our  own,"  he  went  on,  diplo 
matically.  Then, — "Fred,  you  give  us  one  on  saw 
bones.'' 

"Well,  here's  to  our  departing  butcher.  May  his 
slaughterings  all  be  crowned  with  success,  to  the  end 
that  his  pockets  soon  bulge  with  fat  fees." 

"Your  turn  now,  Doc." 


178  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

But  Harold  Gardiner's  thoughts  had  been  far  away 
from  the  general  merriment,  on  a,  to  him,  much  more 
important  matter;  and  after  meditatively  scratching 
his  head  for  a  moment,  he  begged  to  be  let  off.  But 
the  leader  was  inexorable.  "Not  much;  no  partiality 
here";  he  announced.  Adding,  "if  you  can't  rake  up 
a  better  motif,  here's  one!"  at  the  same  time  passing 
the  reluctant  toaster  a  fifth  cupful  from  the  spring. 

"O,  well,  if  I  must  bore  the  company,"  protested 
Harold, — with  a  decidedly  bored  expression  upon  his 
own  face — "here's  to  plain,  unadulterated  aqua  pur  a;  a 
fine  ablutant,  but  the  more  you  drink,  the  more  you 
can't  think;  a  shining  example  right  here."  Tapping 
his  pate,  upon  the  crown  of  which  at  the  time,  the 
hair  was  beginning  to  thin  a  trifle.  "And  now,  Chapin, 
finish  up !"  he  concluded,  tersely. 

"Well  my  think  factory  seems  to  be  shut  down  for 
repairs,  too,  for  a  wonder";  remarked  the  leader, 
facetiously,  after  a  moment's  pretended  reflection ;  "so 
I'll  have  to  take  the  same  stale  subject  I  guess;  for 
tunately  it's  not  a  dry  one.  Here's  to  the  cup  that 
cheers  the  nit  inebriate;  that's  me.  And  now  let's 
move  on'' ;  he  ended ;  when  this  closing  toast  had  been 
drank  and  the  cups  replaced.  And  singing  lustily, 
'We  won't  go  home  until  morning,'  the  fun-loving 
procession  once  more  started  down  the  narrow  trail. 

Now,  as  pre-arranged,  Margaret  Armstrong  and 
Harold  Gardiner  had  lingered  at  the  spring;  but  Wil- 
lard  Manning,  who  brought  up  the  rear — a  prey  to 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON  179 

melancholy  reflections — was  the  only  one  of  the  party 
to  notice  the  fact ;  and  he  made  no  comments.  Once, 
however,  when  the  leader  had  called  out  in  his  jocular 
way,  'what  meaneth  this  lack  of  hilarity  upon  the  back 
seat?'  he  had  replied  a  little  testily,  "O,  we're  think 
ing,  for  a  change !  follow  our  good  example."  But 
as  they  came  out  upon  the  highway  and  the  good- 
nights  were  being  said,  the  absentees  were  of  course, 
missed. 

"Why  where's  our  prima  donna  and  saw-bones?" 
exclaimed  one  young  man,  in  surprise. 

"Conspicuous  by  their  absence,  all  right";  replied 
the  leader,  after  looking  the  party  carefully  over. 
"Well,  they're  pioneers  up  here  and  can  find  their  way 
home  I  suppose  when  they  get  ready  to  come;  we 
won't  lose  any  sleep  upon  their  accounts."  Then,  as 
if  moved  by  a  sudden  suspicion,  he  glanced  quickly 
up  at  the  moon.  "Did  you  see  that  wink?"  he  asked; 
with  mock  seriousness.  "No  wonder  the  Doctor  was 
in  such  a  stew  for  me  to  quit !"  And  as  a  diaphonous 
cloud  just  then  went  sailing  across  the  face  of  the 
distant  satellite,  their  wag  threw  back  his  head  and 
burst  into  a  hearty  laugh ;  slapping  his  knee  a  sound 
ing  whack  as  he  exclaimed,  "Another  Summer  troth; 
by  Jingo!" 


CHAPTER  X. 

RENUNCIATION. 

"  'You  will  not  refuse  me  somewhat  of  a 
lover's  privilege  for  this  once,  I  am  sure,'  he 
pleaded;  immediately  clasping  the  girl  in  a  fond 
embrace  and  tenderly  kissing  away  the  tears 
that  blinded  her  eyes." 

Now  the  rest  at  the  spring  had  in  reality  been  but 
a  very  short  one.  The  giving  and  drinking  of  the 
various  toasts,  with  the  laughter,  applause  or  com 
ments  attending  upon  each  had  been  continuous,  thus 
consuming  all  told  only  a  tiny  fraction  of  an  hour; 
but  for  Harold  Gardiner,  an  Eternity  could  scarcely 
have  dragged  out  its  weary  length  at  a  more  monot 
onous  pace.  He  wondered  how  he  could  ever  have 
found  anything  to  enjoy  in  such  stupid  nonsense,  as 
he  now  mentally  classed  it ;  yet  it  was  just  such  diver 
sions  as  these,  that  made  up  the  sum  total  of  the  rest 
ful  and  healthful  daily  programme  of  their  simple 
life  at  the  lake ;  where  every  trifling  happening  or 
occasion  was  seized  upon  as  a  pretext  for  fun  and 
frolic.  This  night,  however,  it  had  all  jarred  upon 
the  impatient  young  man. 

He  had  slowly  followed  their  companions  for  a  few 
paces  as  they  again  took  to  the  trail,  to  avert  sus 
picion  as  to  the  intended  defection  of  Margaret  and 


RENUNCIATION  181 

himself  from  their  ranks.  The  girl,  however,  had  re 
mained  at  the  arbor;  and  as  she  stood  thoughtful, 
motionless,  with  hands  lightly  clasped  before  her  in 
its  artistic  entrance,  the  silvery  moonbeams  falling 
full  upon  and  around  her,  she  presented  the  appear 
ance  of  a  most  realistic,  full  length  portrait,  set  in  a 
rustic  frame;  and  a  strikingly  handsome  portrait,  at 
that. 

From  her  dainty  kid  boots  to  the  ribbon  about  her 
throat,  she  was  a  symphony  in  white ;  gowned  in  a 
daintily  tucked  and  ruffled  organdie  of  an  exceeding 
fineness  of  texture  and  perfection  of  fit  and  finish, 
the  full,  deep-yoked  waist  confined  to  her  figure 
by  a  softly  folded  satin  belt,  into  which  was  tucked  a 
generous  cluster  of  most  perfect  scarlet  geraniums, 
with  which  Harold  had  presented  her  at  starting.  Her 
wavy,  dark  hair,  turned  carelessly  back  from  a  snowy 
forehead,  was  arranged  at  the  nape  of  the  neck  in  a 
loose  knot;  against  one  side  of  which  nestled  a  sec 
ond  cluster  of  the  same  gorgeous  blooms,  which 
scarcely  rivaled  the  rich  coloring,  now,  as  at  all  times, 
running  riot  in  her  cheeks.  A  wealth  of  tenderness 
lurked  in  the  depths  of  her  dark  eyes,  though  a  close 
analysis  would  have  shown  it  to  be  a  pitying  tender 
ness;  such  as  might  dwell  in  the  eyes  of  a  mother 
grieving  over  a  wayward  child,  or  in  those  of  a 
Saviour  sorrowing  for  a  lost  world. 

As  the  retreating  footsteps  and  singing  began  to 
die  away  a  little  in  the  distance,  Harold  turned  quickly 


182  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

back  towards  the  arbor ;  delight,  expectation,  longing, 
speaking  no  less  eloquently  from  the  spring  in  his 
step,  than  from  the  smile  upon  his  lips. 

Reaching  the  girl,  charmed  beyond  expression  at 
the  exquisite  ensemble  which  met  his  gaze,  he  took 
her  unresisting  hands  in  his  and  carried  them  for  a 
moment  eagerly,  yet  almost  reverently  to  his  lips. 
"And  now,  Margaret!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of 
passionate  inquiry;  his  whole  soul  in  his  eyes. 

"Harry,"  began  the  girl, — while  something  like  tears 
seemed  suddenly  to  tremble  upon  the  silken  lashes  and 
in  the  warm  tones  of  the  softly  modulated  voice — 
"when  you  told  me  of  your  love  that  other  morning, 
a  new  world  opened  before  me,  and  no  girl  could  have 
been  prouder  and  happier  than  I.  The  pride  is  no 
whit  less  tonight,  but  the  happiness  has  been  drowned 
in  sorrow  because  of  the  disappointing  answer  which 
I  must  give  you.  I  have  studied  my  heart  carefully, 
Harry,  and  there  is  no  different  sentiment  there ; 
friendship  has  not  given  place  to  love." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation — during  which  he  had 
led  the  girl  to  a  seat  within  the  arbor  and  taken  his 
place  beside  her — the  lover  slowly  replied,  "I  cannot 
deny  that  this  is  a  disappointment  to  me,  Margaret, 
and  a  good  deal  of  a  surprise  as  well ;  for  your  grow 
ing  kindness  and  graciousness  of  manner  during  the 
happy  weeks  that  have  passed  since  our  former  con 
versation  on  this  subject,  have  tempted  me  to  the 
sweet  belief  that  I  was  becoming  something  more,  and 
dearer  to  you,  than  a  mere  friend." 


RENUNCIATION  183 

"I  hope  it  has  not  been  mistaken  kindness  upon  my 
part  which  has  led  me  to  this  course,  Harry/'  spoke 
the  girl,  regretfully,  "but  believe  me,  it  was  prompted 
solely  by  my  advance  sympathy  for  your  coming  dis 
appointment." 

"That  is  like  you,  dearest,"  returned  the  grateful 
young  man,  "but  you  must  not  let  the  need  of  addi 
tional  time  worry  you;  it  will  not  me.  There  is  no 
cause  for  haste  Margaret";  he  went  on  indulgently. 
"In  one  of  your  earnest  nature,  love  will  no  doubt  be 
longer  taking  root;  but  I  shall  have  no  occasion  for 
complaint  upon  that  score,  for  it  will  make  it  but  the 
deeper  and  stronger;  and  I  could  never  be  satisfied 
with  a  weak  love." 

"Nor  could  I  be  guilty  of  offering  you  one  less  fer 
vent  than  your  own,  Harry,  and  O,  how  hard  I  have 
tried  to  feel  it." 

An  almost  imperceptible  sensation  of  pained  aston 
ishment  that  it  should  have  required  effort -to  love 
him  took  possession  of  the  ardent  wooer  for  an  in 
stant,  at  the  girl's  last  words;  but  passed  as  quickly, 
leaving  no  faintest  trace  of  resentment  in  his  words 
or  manner  as  he  protested  confidently,  "but  it  will 
come,  Margaret,  it  will  come ;  and  I  can  wait,  as  I 
told  you  before." 

"I  must  not  let  you  build  upon  false  hopes  though, 
Harry,"  here  ventured  the  girl,  tenderly,  "since — " 

"But  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  wait,  Margaret,"  in 
terrupted  her  companion,  "and  to  take  my  chances 


184  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

for  the  future.  I  simply  cannot  consider  this  answer 
as  final;  why  life  would  become  the  most  harrowing 
reality  for  me  if  I  felt  that  I  must  do  that !  No  dear 
est  ;  let  me  leave  you  with  hope,  at  least,"  he  pleaded. 
"I  can  be  more  patient  now  that  I  know  you  to  be 
still  mistress  of  your  heart;  that  it  has  not  yet  been 
given  to  another." 

"Harry,"  now  put  in  the  girl,  desperately,  "if  I 
could  give  you  the  least  ground  for  it,  how  gladly 
would  I  have  you  continue  to  cherish  this  hope  for 
which  you  plead;  but  I  cannot,  and  it  would  be  the 
very  refinement  of  cruelty  for  me  to  deceive  you  fur 
ther.  I  am  no  longer  the  mistress  of  my  heart  as  you 
believe.  Love  has  awakened  in  it,  but  unfortunately, 
it  is—" 

"Not  for  another,  Margaret!"  burst  out  the  man, 
incredulously — shaking  off  the  hand  almost  savagely 
which  had  been  laid  upon  his  in  token  of  sympathy  as 
the  girl  spoke,  and  jumping  to  his  feet  as  though  elec 
trified  by  her  words— "Don't  tell  me  that!" 

"Yes,  Harry,  for  another !"  was  the  slow,  sorrowful 
reply. 

"O,  God!"  came  with  a  groan  from  the  young  man's 
lips;  as  he  sank  back  upon  the  settee  and  buried  his 
face  within  his  hands. 

'If  you  want  a  man  to  sense  the  pains  of  Hell, 
Before  you  pitch  him  in  just  keep  him  in 
Heaven,  a  spell.' 


RENUNCIATION  185 

Harold  Gardiner  had  certainly  been  very  near  to 
this  beatific  state  for  a  long  time,  as  we  know ;  and 
Curing  these  later  weeks,  he  had  so  magnified  every 
morsel  of  seeming  encouragement,  that  the  awaken 
ing  from  his  happy  dream  of  almost  confident  hope 
fulness,  was  indeed  a  rude  one. 

Now,  there  are  colorless  hours  in  life  which  might 
easily  be  condensed  into  seconds;  and  there  are  sec 
onds,  so  full  of  happening,  so  fraught  with  conse 
quence,  that  eventful  years  might  almost  be  subtracted 
from  them,  and  yet  leave  a  remainder. 

For  many,  many  hundreds  of  such  consequential 
seconds  did  Harry  Gardiner  sit  thus,  with  bowed  head 
and  covered  face;  the  convulsive  tremors  which 
from  time  to  time  shook  his  frame,  alone  giving  evi 
dence  of  life  within  it.  Once  Margaret,  alarmed,  her 
self  torn  with  emotion,  had  lain  a  hand  gently  upon 
his  shoulder;  but  he  had  moved  away  at  the  touch, 
as  though  it  were  repulsive  to  him ;  and  she  had  ven 
tured  no  further  manifestation,  although  her  heart 
was  bleeding  in  common  with  his. 

In  that  bitter  hour,  memory — as  though  to  mock  his 
unhappy  fate — was  busy  setting  in  review  before  him 
the  long,  joyous  years,  first  of  boyish  dream  and  later 
of  manly  hope,  in  which  he  had  been  the  adoring  sub 
ject,  and  she  the  unconscious  queen;  the  inspiration 
and  the  fulfillment,  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega  of  all 
his  thoughts  and  longings,  his  plans  and  expectations ; 
until  she  had  become  so  interwoven  with  the  fabric  of 


186  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

his  being  as  to  seem  really  a  part,  a  vital  part  of  it. 
And  now,  this  cruel  disenchantment ;  this  ruthless  lev 
eling  of  his  fairy  structure  with  a  word.  "O,  it  is  too 
hard!"  he  protested  to  himself,  angrily;  "I  will  not 
submit  to  it !  I  will  not  be  cast  off  thus !  she  may  love 
another  if  she  will,  but  she  must  at  least  divide  her 
love  with  me;  I  will  accept  a  part  now;  the  time  will 
come  when  I  will  have  it  all;  for  there  are  means,  and 
I  will  use  them;  I  will  hesitate  at  nothing;  stoop  to 
anything,  but  I  will  have  her!" 

But  at  length,  he  slowly  raised  to  his  adored  one,  a 
face,  no  longer  that  of  the  light-hearted  boy  it  had 
hitherto  appeared,  but  one  speedily  transformed  by 
an  agonizing  experience  into  that  of  a  man ;  and  not 
of  a  man  in  years  merely,  but  of  one  in  whose  eyes  the 
gleam  of  victory  told  of  the  hard  won  battle  of  a 
strong  man  over  self. 

"Can  you  forgive  my  rudeness?"  he  offered  peni 
tently;  drawing  nearer  to  the  girl  once  more  and 
taking  her  hands  in  both  of  his.  "I  have  been  such  a 
brute !  But  O,  Margaret,  you  can  have  no  conception  of 
what  this  means  to  me" ;  he  added  with  indescribable 
pathos  in  tones  and  manner.  "Never  again  to  awaken 
with  the  long  cherished  hope  of  one  day  calling  you 
my  own;  never  again  to  be  able  to  plod  through  the 
tasks  of  the  day,  cheered  by  the  thought  of  your  proud 
interest  in  me;  never  again  to  have  my  dreams  glori 
fied  with  the  vision  of  a  home  blessed  by  your  loving 
companionship.  And  yet,  believe  me  Margaret,"  he 


RENUNCIATION  187 

assured  her,  "my  heart  contains  no  reproaches.  I 
alone  am  to  blame  for  this  joyless  awaking,  for  I  have 
deliberately  set  my  face  against  the  truth.  I  have 
more  than  once  seen  your  eye  brighten,  your  breath 
come  quicker,  the  color  deepen  in  your  cheek  at  his 
approach ;  but  like  the  fool  that  I  was,  I  have  blinded 
myself  to  it  all.  Love  is  ever  thus  you  know,  to  what 
it  does  not  wish  to  see,  and  had  you  been  so  unwise 
as  to  hide  the  fact  of  your  awakened  heart  from  me, 
out  of  sympathy — as  I  fancy  you  may  have  felt  at 
times  like  doing — upon  my  soul,  Margaret,  I  believe 
I  would  have  been  tempted  to  accept  the  sacrifice  even 
though  I  knew  it  to  be  such.  But  he  has  been  gen 
erous,  noble  and  good  as  he  always  is,  and  I  cannot 
be  too  thankful  that  you  did  not,  for  you  will  be  happy 
with  him,  and  from  that  knowledge  my  happiness  will 
flow;  since  you  can  never  cease  to  be  as  you  always 
have  been,  dearer  to  me  than  self;  yes,  dearer  even 
than  life!" 

Now  Margaret  Armstrong's  feelings  upon  learning 
that  those  secret  emotions  of  her  heart  which  she  had 
believed  so  effectually  concealed  from  all  had  been 
fathomed,  and  especially  by  this  young  man,  contained 
probably  an  equal  mixture  of  mortification  and  aston 
ishment.  While  he  had  mentioned  no  one  by  name, 
'a  guilty  conscience  needs  no  accuser' ;  and  there  was 
no  doubting  to  whom  he  referred.  O,  how  she  longed 
to  tell  him  of  the  hopeless  heaviness  in  her  own  heart, 
which  made  it  capable  of  comprehending  his  so  much 


188  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

more  fully  than  he  supposed,  and  at  the  same  time 
made  it  as  much  an  object  for  sympathy  as  his  own. 
But  many  considerations  forbade  this,  and  she  felt 
obliged  to  suffer  in  silence. 

"Yes,  Harry,"  confessed  the  girl,  as  he  ceased 
speaking,  "there  have  been  times  when  it  has  seemed 
impossible  for  me  to  tell  you  this,  and  dash  the  cup 
of  hope  with  its  attendant  happiness  from  your  lips ; 
but  I  see  now  how  useless  and  wrong  it  would  have 
been  for  me  to  have  attempted  to  hide  it  from  you, 
and  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  me  to  know  that  you  ap 
prove  my  course.  But  Harry,  much  as  I  appreciate 
and  am  flattered  by  your  devotion  to  me,  remember. 
I  would  not  have  it  doom  you  to  a  solitary  life ;  it  will 
be  one  of  the  happiest  days  of  mine  when  I  hear  of 
your  engagement  and  marriage  to  some  girl  who  fully 
returns,  and  is  therefore  worthy  of  your  splendid 
love." 

"That  you  must  not  expect,  for  it  can  never  be,  Mar 
garet";  replied  her  companion,  with  instant  decisive 
ness.  "Would  you  have  me  offer  to  another"  he  went 
on,  almost  chidingly,  "a  heart  which  contained  a 
grave  ?  One  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  a  dead  love  ?  But 
mine  would  be  an  even  greater  insult,  for  it  would 
contain  a  living  love,  and  a  throne  whereon  sat  a 
crowned  queen,  at  whose  feet  my  daily  homage  would 
be  paid.  Would  you  have  me  offer  a  secondary  place 
then,  to  one  who  bore  the  sacred  name  of  wife?  Per 
haps  I  would  have  loved  you  too  dearly,  Margaret. 


RENUNCIATION  189 

I  think  I  would  have  made  an  idol  of  you,  and  God 
would  never  have  stood  for  that.  No,  dearest,  since 
I  am  denied  life's  crowning  glory,  the  love  of  the  one  I 
love,  I  will  never  marry.  But  this  shall  not  make  me 
hard  and  bitter" ;  he  hastened  to  affirm ;  "for  he  whose 
heart  has  suffered  and  not  been  made  tenderer  there 
by,  has  in  it  less  of  the  man  than  brute,  'tis  said.  From 
the  cup  of  anguish  and  the  bloody  sweat  of  this  my 
Gethsemane,  my  heart  will  come  forth  very  sensitive 
to  other's  woes,  I  trust.  My  profession  will  bring  me 
continually  into  contact  with  suffering  and  sorrow, 
and  I  shall  try  to  find  consolation  both  in  an  unselfish 
giving  of  the  best  that  is  in  me  to  the  alleviation  of 
physical  pain,  and  in  helping  to  bind  up  the  broken 
hearted.  Happiness,  we  are  told,  lies  not  after  all  in 
selfishness,  but  in  service;  and  I,  too,  will  be  happy." 

"Surely  I  hope  so,  Harry,"  answered  the  girl,  earn 
estly  ;  deeply  affected  by  the  young  man's  noble  words  ; 
"and  yet  upon  your  account  I  cannot  help  feeling  that 
it  would  have  been  so  much  better  if  we  had  never 
met." 

"Margaret,  He  who  sees  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning,  knew  best;  let  us  leave  it  to  Him.  For  myself, 
I  am  thankful  for  this  love,  hopeless  though  it  has 
proven  to  be,  for  without  its  blessed  inspiration  I 
doubt  if  I  should  ever  have  accomplished  what  I  al 
ready  have  and  still  hope  to,  and  as  the  beacon  light 
of  my  life  it  has  guided  me  safe  past  those  rocks  and 
shoals  upon  which  so  many  less  favored  young 


190  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

mariners  have  made  shipwreck.  Temptations  crowd 
and  jostle  each  other  for  place  upon  the  ocean  of  a 
young  man's  life,  Margaret,  and  there  is  no  restrain 
ing  influence  so  powerful  upon  him  as  an  absorbing 
passion  for  some  pure  young  girl." 

"And  now,  must  we  indeed  part,  Margaret?"  he 
faltered,  as  the  girl  arose  to  leave  the  arbor; — con 
cealing  as  best  he  could  the  exceeding  bitterness  of 
the  pang.  "Then  let  our  good-byes  be  said  here,  in 
this  hallowed  seclusion;  for  I  could  not  bear  simply 
to  take  a  formal  leave  of  you  in  presence  of  others. 
My  very  early  start  will  be  sufficient  excuse  for  your 
not  seeing  me  off.  You  will  not  refuse  me  somewhat 
of  a  lover's  privilege  for  this  once,  I  am  sure";  he 
pleaded,  immediately  clasping  the  girl  in  a  fond  em 
brace,  and  tenderly  kissing  away  the  tears  which 
blinded  her  eyes.  "Queen  of  my  heart  and  life,  for 
ever,"  he  murmured  passionately — though  with  an 
enforced  resignation — as  he  held  her  thus,  "farewell ! 
Would  to  God  that  I  might  be  permitted  to  exchange 
whatever  of  brightness  that  may  come  into  my  life," 
he  went  on — clothing  his  thoughts  as  before,  in  a 
poesy  of  expression  which  was  with  him  an  innate 
vernacular — "for  the  inevitable  clouds  which  must  at 
times  darken  yours;  though  this  is  of  course  a  boon 
which  cannot  be  granted  me.  But  may  there  be  only 
just  enough  of  those  clouds,  dearest,  to  make  its  sun 
set  a  glorious  one ;  and  whether  your  heart  thrills  with 
joy  or  bleeds  in  sorrow,  remember  always  that  if 


RENUNCIATION  191 

known  to  me,  mine  will  be  beating  in  unison  with  it. 
I  have  but  one  more  request,  Margaret ;  these  flowers 
that  you  have  worn  tonight." 

Choked  with  emotion,  the  girl  took  from  her  waist 
and  hair  the  flowers  which  had  been  his  gift ;  and  with 
trembling  hand,  laid  them  silently  in  the  young  man's 
waiting  one.  Then,  suffering  her  quivering  lips  to  be 
raised  to  his,  received  upon  them  the  long,  despairing 
kiss  of  quenchless  love,  but  shattered  hopes. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING. 

"  'You    "don't    mean    to    say    that    you've    been 
loving  me  ever  since  then,  Will'?" 

When  they  reached  the  house  our  young  friends 
were  both  much  relieved  to  find  that  the  family  had 
retired;  for  neither  was  in  any  mood  for  conversation 
and  visiting.  As  Margaret  bent  over  her  mother  for 
the  usual  affectionate  good-night,  she  said :  "I'm  very 
tired  Mamma,  and  would  like  to  sleep  late  in  the 
morning." 

"Very  well,  daughter;  but  have  you  forgotten  that 
Harold  leaves  us  then?" 

"No,  Mamma,  but  so  early  that  we  have  said  our 
good-byes  tonight ;  he  doesn't  expect  to  see  me  again." 

"Is  he  taking  my  little  girl's  heart  with  him  ?"  asked 
the  doubly  interested  mother;  detaining  her  hand  and 
drawing  the  girl  to  a  sitting  posture  beside  her  upon 
the  edge  of  the  bed ;  "for  I  know  that  was  his  dearest 
wish";  she  explained. 

"No,  he  isn't,  Mamma,"  replied  the  daughter,  sadly, 
"although  he  has  offered  me  his,  filled  with  such  a 
love  as  any  girl  should  be  proud  and  glad  to  accept. 
I  think  it  must  be  fully  equal  to  Papa's  for  you" — 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  193 

which  in  Margaret  Armstrong's  estimation  had  always, 
and  rightly,  represented  the  very  acme  of  devotion. 
"O,  Mamma,  Harry  is  a  prince!"  she  finished,  with 
glistening  eyes. 

"Why  did  you  refuse  him  then,  daughter?" 
"Because  my  heart  could  not  respond  to  his,  Mam 
ma.  Why,  Harry  has  been  loving  me  for  the  last  ten 
years!"  she  went  on,  with  marked  surprise.  "You 
know  how  devoted  he  has  always  been  to  me,  though 
I  had  never  thought  of  it  as  anything  but  a  continu 
ance  of  our  childish  fondness  for  each  other,  until  he 
told  me  of  this  love  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  and 
begged  for  mine  in  return.  Ever  since  then  I  have 
been  trying  to  make  myself  believe  that  I  really  could 
return  it ;  but  it  was  no  use,  and  it  has  nearly  broken 
my  heart  to  tell  him  so,  as  I  have  been  doing  on  the 
way  home.  The  disappointment  was  a  terrible  one  to 
him,  Mamma!  I  could  not  have  believed  it  possible 
for  anything  to  have  caused  a  man  such  suffering  as 
that  did  him  for  a  while ;  it  almost  made  me  feel  that 
I  had  done  wrong  in  refusing  him.  Did  I,  Mamma?" 
"No,  daughter";  answered  the  high-minded  parent, 
with  unhesitating  decision.  "The  wrong  would  have 
been  for  you  to  have  accepted  him  knowing  that  you 
had  no  love  to  give,  for  you  would  have  been  sure  to 
make  his  life  unhappy,  and  it  is  a  crime  to  dispense 
avoidable  unhappiness.  The  greatest  care  and  deepest 
self-examination  are  needed  in  choosing  a  husband 
or  wife,  Margaret,"  she  continued,  with  great  serious- 


194  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ness,  "and  even  with  it  all,  mistakes  will  sometimes 
be  made.  Balzac,  you  know,  has  one  of  his  heroines 
to  say :  'There  is  but  one  man  in  the  world  for  each  of 
us;  and  frequently,  he  whom  we  were  formed  to 
treasure,  is  not  the  one  whom  we  have  married  be 
lieving  that  we  loved  him.'  Ordinarilly,  I  think  a 
woman  who  is  loved  and  well  treated  by  her  husband, 
even  if  there  be  not  this  perfect  heart  union  between 
them,  will  be  sufficiently  absorbed  in  the  relationship 
of  wife — and  of  mother,  if  she  be  blessed  with  chil 
dren — as  to  not  recognize  her  true  mate  should  she 
be  so  unfortunate  as  to  meet  him  when  too  late;  but 
it  must  be  an  inconceivably  sad  experience  for  one  who 
does.  An  exalted  sense  of  duty,  an  over-plus,  almost, 
of  honor  and  principle,  and  a  firm  faith,  one  or  all  of 
these  will  be  needed  to  keep  such  an  one  from  forget 
ting  her  irrevocable — 'until  death  us  do  part.'  Now 
Harold  is  a  splendid  fellow,  one  whom  I  have  always 
thought  much  of  and  greatly  admired,  and  I  should 
have  been  both  proud  and  happy  to  have  taken  him 
to  my  heart  as  a  son,  had  he  been  your  choice;  but  I 
cannot  be  too  thankful  that  you  did  not  defraud  him. 
Did  you  refuse  him  because  of  love  for  another,  daugh 
ter?"  ventured  the  unobtrusive  mother,  delicately. 

Now  either  one  of  the  girl's  admitted  suitors  would 
have  been  a  perfectly  agreeable  son-in-law  to  Mrs. 
Armstrong,  as  we  know.  Simply  that  her  daughter's 
heart  should  be  sole  arbiter  in  choosing  between  them, 
uninfluenced  by  an  expressed  preference  of  her  own — 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  195 

for  which  this  girl  would  no  doubt  have  asked  had 
she  been  advised  of  the  proposed  suit  of  either  in  ad 
vance — was  the  selfless  mother's  wish ;  and  she  had 
therefore  refrained  purposely,  from  such  advising.  But 
had  her  direct  question  at  this  time  been  answered, 
light  would  have  been  shed  as  to  the  direction  of 
Willard  Manning's  love,  which  would  have  at  once 
removed  her  daughter's  false  impressions,  and  spared 
both  herself  and  the  man  much  unhappiness.  Ex 
tremely  sensitive  upon  that  subject  however,  the  truth 
ful  girl  started  to  reply :  "No  Mamma" ;  but  quickly 
checked  herself  and  instead,  begged  of  her  parent  not 
to  ask.  "I'd  rather  not  answer  that  question,  please, 
Mamma;  at  least,  not  tonight;  some  other  time,  per 
haps."  And  kissing  her  mother  affectionately,  Mar 
garet  retired  to  her  own  room. 

"Cecile,"  she  said, — as  the  maid,  her  attentions  fin 
ished,  was  about  to  withdraw — "I  wish  to  sleep  late 
in  the  morning;  see  that  I  am  not  disturbed,  please; 
good-night." 

When  the  door  had  closed  upon  the  retreating  fig 
ure,  the  agitated  girl  sank  upon  her  knees  and  offered 
a  fervent  prayer  for  the  rejected  lover;  closing  in  a 
burst  of  relieving  tears  with  a  supplication  from  the 
beautiful  duet  which  they  had  so  many  times  sung 
together:  'O,  Angels  of  Heaven,  guard  him  from 
evil!'  While  in  the  adjoining  moon-lit  room  sat 
Harry,  bowed  in  an  attitude  of  the  deepest  dejection, 
but  with  dry  eyes  riveted  upon  the  likeness  of  a  young 


196  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

girl  who  strongly  resembled  herself,  though  many 
years  her  junior,  which  he  held  before  him,  and  by  a 
strange  coincidence,  pathetically  repeating  from  the 
closing  words  of  the  same  ardent  love-song:  'Life's 
long  dream  is  o'er;  farewell!  farewell!' 

In  yet  another  room  of  this  same  hospitable  cot 
tage,  Willard  Manning  had  also  passed  a  restless,  un 
happy  night,  endeavoring  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
offering  of  congratulations  the  following  morning, 
upon  the  expected  announcement  of  a  distasteful  en 
gagement,  which  must  surely  follow  the  recorded 
loitering  of  the  evening  before  at  Fern  Spring,  so  he 
believed.  He  was  much  more  than  surprised  there 
fore,  to  learn  that  none  existed;  and  the  knowledge 
gained  from  the  mother  that  the  girl  was  yet  free,  was 
relieving  and  cheering  in  the  extreme. 

The  only  young  man  in  the  house  after  Harold 
Gardiner's  departure,  it  was  but  natural  that  he  should 
now  pay  the  more  attentions  to  its  daughter ;  and  no 
rankling  feeling  of  pique  prevented  his  hastening  to 
avail  himself  of  the  favoring  circumstance  at  first.  But 
to  the  girl's  longing  yet  troubled  heart,  his  gallantries 
were  such  torturous  delights,  that  she  preferred  to 
forego  them,  and  he  was  therefore  kept  at  arm's  length 
as  before. 

There  was  never  any  lack  of  proffered  escort  from 
among  whom  for  the  popular  young  beauty  to  choose 
when  a  jaunt  of  any  sort  was  afoot,  and  the  seeming 
gaiety  of  her  purposely  promiscuous  favoring  of  these 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  197 

many,  soon  inclined  this  one — whose  mortifying1  ex 
perience  it  usually  was  to  find  himself  among  the  re 
jected — to  wonder  if  he  had  not,  after  all,  been  mis 
taken  in  the  girl,  and  if  she  had  not  in  her  the  mak 
ings  of  a  genuine  coquette — a  type  of  woman  that  he 
most  thoroughly  despised. 

But  a  near-at-hand  day  was  to  reveal  to  him  how 
little  he  had  understood  Margaret,  and  what  an  in 
justice  he  had  done  her  by  such  a  suspicion,  even. 
A  trip  for  this  enlightening  day  had  been  arranged  at 
Clayton  Nichols'  suggestion,  for  Gertrude — now  his 
fiancee  of  a  week — Margaret,  Willard  and  himself,  to 
one  of  the  points  of  especial  interest  in  the  vicinity, 
Sky-top  Mountain;  distant  from  the  lake  about  five 
miles. 

Now  this  name  'Sky-top'  was  somewhat  mislead 
ing,  since  the  mountain  was  not  noted  for  height,  as 
was  many  of  its  neighbors,  but  rather  for  its  steep 
ness,  picturesqueness  and  unusual  features.  It  was 
really  one  of  the  low  peaks  of  the  range,  whose  ascent 
however  was  difficult  and  laborious  because  of  an  utter 
absence  of  marked  trails.  By  some  mighty  convul 
sion  of  Nature  in  a  probably  far-a-way  past,  its  low 
est  spur  had  been  rent  from  it,  leaving  between  it  and 
the  part  thus  detached,  a  cleft,  something  over  four 
hundred  feet  in  depth  and  from  two  to  two  and  a  half 
in  width ;  and  through  this  narrow  passage  the  more 
adventurous  spirits  of  a  party  who  had  made  the  as 
cent,  would  take  a  certain  pride  in  making  their  way 


198  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

down  again  to  the  road  or  trail  whence  they  had 
started. 

Now  the  parting  of  the  mountain  had  been  a  ragged 
tear;  not  a  clean-cut  stroke.  Resultant  points  and 
ledges  of  rock,  which  jutted  out  from  either  side  of  the 
'Great  Crevice' — as  the  cleft  had  been  named — at 
frequent,  though  irregular  intervals,  served  the  pur 
pose  of  steps;  and  down  these,  a  sort  of  zigzag  de 
scent  had  to  be  made.  Covered  with  a  greenish  damp 
ness  which  inclined  to  slipperiness,  and  with  the  dis 
tances  between,  in  places,  such  as  to  make  it  neces 
sary  to  all  but  relinquish  hold  upon  the  upper  ere  the 
feet  were  firmly  planted  upon  the  next  below,  it  was 
a  feat  which  required  a  certain  amount  of  courage 
to  attempt,  and  steady  nerve  to  perform;  but  given 
these  and  the  exercise  of  due  caution,  could  be  and 
occasionally  was  performed. 

The  only  real  danger  connected  with  the  undertak 
ing  lay  in  a  possible  meeting  with  a  Rattler;  for  in 
common  with  many  of  the  mountainous  sections  of 
our  country,  the  Rockies  are  infested  by  these  venom 
ous  snakes ;  thousands  of  them  traveling  to  their  num 
erous  caves  at  the  approach  of  Winter  each  year, 
where  they  huddle  together  in  bunches  until  the  end 
of  the  cold  season,  then  mostly  come  forth  again  to 
bask  in  the  warmth  of  Spring. 

But  although  there  was  always  the  possibility  of 
such  an  encounter,  there  was  no  well  authenticated 
account  of  one  on  record,  so  far  as  this  jolly  quartette 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  199 

knew;  and  such  a  contingency  was  certainly  farthest 
from  their  thoughts,  as  they  enjoyed  their  leisurely 
ride  over  the  hard  mountain  road  on  that  loveliest  of 
Summer  mornings,  to  the  picturesque  canyon  out  of 
which  'Sky-top'  reared  itself. 

A  tempting  luncheon  to  which  their  sharpened  ap 
petites  had  done  full  justice,  had  been  dispatched  and 
followed  by  an  hour  of  wholesomely  lively  chat,  when, 
dressed  in  complete  Alpine  suits  and  with  stout  staffs 
to  aid  them,  they  had  at  length  reached  the  summit  of 
the  tedious  spur ;  their  horses  left  to  await  their  return, 
tethered  in  the  canyon  below.  After  a  needed  rest  at 
the  top,  Clayton  Nichols,  who  had  several  times  before 
made  the  descent — followed  of  course,  by  Gertrude — 
started  to  lead  the  little  party  through  the  Crevice. 

"O,  please  wait  'til  we  get  part  down;  a  little  out 
of  the  way,  Mr.  Manning";  requested  the  girl,  with 
some  trepidation,  as  that  gentleman  began  an  immedi 
ate  following.  "These  steps  look  pretty  slippery," 
she  explained,  "and  I  can't  say  that  I  altogether  relish 
the  idea  of  having  any  one  light  on  my  head  in  such 
close  quarters  as  this." 

"Why  certainly,  Miss  Warfield;  with  pleasure"; 
replied  the  man,  drawing  back.  "Just  call  out  when 
you're  ready  for  us  to  start." 

"Thanks;  we  will";  returned  the  other,  disappear 
ing  from  view  beneath  a  projecting  ledge,  as  she 
spoke. 

"All  O.  K.,"  called  back  her  escort  a  little  later, 


200  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

when  they  two  had  covered  nearly  a  third  of  the  dis 
tance;  and  at  the  summons,  Willard  and  Margaret  at 
once  began  their  descent. 

A  rambling  fire  of  comment  and  exclamation,  ac 
companied  by  more  or  less  of  light  laughter,  was  now 
indulged  in  by  the  two  detachments,  and  all  went 
'merry  as  a  marriage  bell' ;  until  the  vanguard,  with  a 
gay  'good-bye/  had  passed  from  the  Crevice  out  into 
the  canyon  again,  and  the  rear  had  also  left  more  than 
half  of  its  descent  above  it. 

Suddenly,  from  the  ledge  on  the  opposite  side  upon 
which  the  man's  next  stand  must  be  made  and  but 
two  feet  below,  came  an  ominous  sound;  and  quickly 
drawing  back  the  foot  which  he  was  even  then  in  the 
act  of  lowering  to  it  and  looking  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  had  come,  Willard  was  horrified  to 
behold  upon  it  an  immense  snake,  which  had  made  its 
way  to  the  spot  through  a  horizontal  fissure  in  the 
rocks;  drawn,  no  doubt,  by  the  sound  of  voices. 

Now  no  person  who  has  ever  seen  one  of  these 
dangerous  reptiles  coiled,  ready  to  strike,  with  its  enor 
mous,  triangular  shaped  head  elevated,  its  protruding 
fangs,  its  brilliant,  fiery-irised  eyes  from  which  seem 
to  shoot  forth  venom,  and  its  whole  body  vibrating 
with  such  excitement  as  to  cause  the  buttons  of  its 
tail  to  rattle  together  with  a  sharp,  clicking  sound,  can 
ever  possibly  forget  its  repulsive,  forbidding  appear 
ance. 

Such  was  the  sight  which  met  Willard  Manning's 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  201 

eyes;  and  though  he  had  never  in  life  been  thought 
of  as  in  the  slightest  degree  a  coward,  yet  for  one  ter 
rible  moment  as  he  gazed  almost  fascinated  at  the 
vicious,  ugly  looking  thing,  and  realized  the  narrow 
escape  he  himself  had  just  had,  as  well  as  the  grave 
danger  which  yet  confronted  them  both — for  that  com 
panions  of  the  hideous  thing  might  be  in  close  prox 
imity  and  at  any  moment  make  their  appearance 
through  corresponding  fissures,  above,  below  or  on  a 
level  with  them,  was  but  a  reasonable  fear  to  enter 
tain — the  blood  in  his  veins  seemed  to  congeal  and  he 
felt  all  the  hair  of  his  body  beginning  to  stand  on  end. 

It  was  impossible  for  them  to  go  back,  for  the  reach 
immediately  above  had  been  a  long  one,  and  his  com 
panion  could  not  possibly  have  secured  sufficient  pur 
chase  upon  the  slippery  edge  of  the  projection  to  draw 
herself  up  again,  nor  was  the  cleft  wide  enough  at  this 
point  for  her  escort  to  crowd  past  and  assist  her,  as 
he  became  possessed  of  the  wild  idea  of  attempting, 
for  an  instant;  although  to  have  done  so  would  have 
meant  a  certain  fall  to  probable  death  on  the  rocks 
below,  for  them  both.  There  was  therefore  no  other 
alternative  than  to  go  on,  but  the  enemy  must  first 
be  dispatched. 

Reaching  back  to  his  hip,  the  man  took  from  his 
belt  a  sharp,  short-handled  camp  hatchet,  always  car 
ried  upon  such  trips  for  any  emergency  which  might 
arise.  "Don't  move  or  speak,  Margaret!"  he  now 
commanded  sternly,  to  the  astonished  girl  two  steps 


202  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

above;  and  then  at  once  loosing  his  hold  upon  the 
projection  overhead,  stooped,  and  bracing  himself  as 
best  he  could  against  the  rocky  wall,  raised  his  hatchet, 
and  with  a  terrific  blow  which  must  not  fail,  bore  down 
the  angry  viper's  head  to  the  ledge  and  severed  it 
from  its  body. 

But  his  footing  upon  the  narrow,  slippery,  project 
ing  shelf,  had  been  too  insecure  for  so  violent  a  mo 
tion  ;  and  losing  his  balance,  the  man  pitched  forward 
and  went  crashing  headlong  after  the  dismembered 
head,  which  had  fallen  to  the  bottom  of  the  Crevice. 

With  her  heart  at  a  standstill,  and  rooted  to  the 
spot  as  she  had  been  by  the  sense  of  some  imminent 
danger  conveyed  by  her  companion's  extraordinary 
command,  Margaret  Armstrong  stood  transfixed  with 
horror  at  the  quick  blow  which  followed,  and  the  sick 
ening  sound  of  his  falling  body  as  it  went  bounding 
down  against  the  jagged  sides  of  the  cleft,  until  a 
death-like  silence  told  of  its  rest  at  the  bottom.  Then 
she  opened  her  mouth  to  scream ;  to  call  for  help ;  but 
"Will!"  "Clayton!"  "Gertie!"  each  in  turn  froze  upon 
her  lips.  A  feeling  of  frenzied  haste  to  reach  the  man 
she  loved,  now  took  possession  of  her,  filling  her  with 
an  almost  irresistible  mad  impulse  to  fling  herself 
down,  and  join  him  in  the  probably  ghastly  death 
which  had  been  his  fate.  But  the  blessed  self-control 
in  the  girl's  nature  now  asserted  itself  and  stood  her 
in  good  stead  for  a  time.  Once,  several  years  before, 
she  had  been  through  the  Crevice  with  her  father ;  and 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING          203 

by  the  remembrance  of  the  location  of  most  of  the 
jutting  points  thus  obtained,  was  able  to  make  her 
way  with  greater  confidence  and  speed,  down  past  the 
still  writhing  but  fortunately  harmless  body  of  the 
snake — which  she  now  saw  for  the  first  time — on  and 
on  until  the  unconscious  man  was  reached. 

"O,  Will !  Will !  speak  to  me !"  cried  Margaret  fever 
ishly,  kissing  the  bruised  and  bleeding  face  as  she 
knelt  over  him  for  a  moment  to  lay  her  ear  to  his 
heart.  But  there  was  no  response  to  her  call;  and 
snatching  the  soft  felt  hat  from  her  head  and  placing 
it  upon  a  rock  at  her  side,  the  terrified  girl  laid  the 
loved  head  tenderly  upon  it,  then  rushed  on  out  into 
the  canyon,  frantically  shouting  for  their  companions. 

Naturally  absorbed  in  each  other  at  this  time,  and 
with  no  thought  of  mishappening  for  the  rest,  the  en 
gaged  couple  had  wandered  back  to  their  starting 
point  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain ;  but  as  their 
friend's  piercing,  distressed  cry  rang  out  upon  the 
stillness,  both  made  an  instant  dash  for  the  Crevice. 

"Quick!  quick!"  implored  the  hatless,  wild-eyed, 
pallid  girl  as  they  came  in  sight;  and  then,  rushing 
back,  the  intensity  of  the  strain  over  now  that  help 
was  at  hand,  sank  senseless  at  her  unsuspected  lover's 
side. 

"O,  is  he  still  alive?"  was  her  tell-tale  question  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  later,  as  she  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  up  into  the  tearful,  anxious  face  of  her  friend 
bending  over  them. 


204  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"Yes,  Margaret,  thank  God !  his  heart  and  pulse  are 
still  beating ;  Clayton  waited  only  long  enough  to  make 
sure  of  that" ;  replied  her  friend.  "But  what  a  fright 
ful  experience  you  must  have  had,  dear !"  she  finished, 
sympathetically  stroking  her  friend's  forehead  and 
kissing  her  repeatedly  as  she  spoke.  "But  however 
did  he  come  to  fall?" 

"A  horrid  snake,  Gertie" ;  shuddered  the  other ; 
"and  he  must  have  lost  his  balance  killing  it;  I  was 
above  and  didn't  see.  I  tried  to  call  out  and  couldn't, 
and  I  don't  know  how  I  ever  got  down  the  rest  of  the 
way.  But,  O,  if  you  and  Clayton  had  only  been  here 
to  help,  he  could  have  had  attention  so  much  sooner; 
now  it  may  be  too  late!"  she  faltered,  vainly  trying  to 
choke  back  the  tears  as  she  reached  over  and  took 
the  limp  hand  tenderly  in  her  own. 

"Please  don't  say  that,  Margaret !"  pleaded  her  com 
panion;  "for  I  am  already  consumed  with  regret  that 
we  were  not;  but  of  course  we  didn't  think  of  any 
thing  happening." 

"I  know  it  Gertie,"  acknowledged  the  other;  lov 
ingly  pressing  the  caressing  hand,  "and  I  shouldn't 
have  said  that.  But  O,  why  don't  they  come!"  she 
exclaimed  impatiently,  attempting  to  rise.  The 
strength  however,  seemed  every  bit  to  have  gone  from 
her  limbs  and  Margaret  sank  back  with  a  helpless 
groan.  "Do  see  if  they're  not  in  sight,  Gertie?"  she 
begged. 

"Not  quite  in  sight  yet,  dear,"  was  the  report,  as 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  205 

the  girl  returned  from  her  fruitless  quest  a  moment 
later.  "But  they  must  surely  come  very  soon  now, 
for  it  seems  hours  already  since  Clayton  started." 

In  an  incredibly  short  time,  however,  considering 
the  distance,  Dr.  Lindsay  was  bending  over  the  in 
jured  man  and  questioning  Margaret  as  to  when  and 
how  and  distance  of  the  fall.  "I  find  no  broken 
bones,"  he  at  length  informed  the  anxious  group  about 
him,  "but  this  gash  in  the  temple's  an  ugly  one,  and 
there's  a  nasty  lump  at  the  base  of  the  brain.  I'm  a 
little  afraid  the  shock  and  shake-up  may  result  in  a 
concussion,  but  we'll  hope  for  the  best  as  to  that  and 
any  internal  injuries;  fortunately  there's  no  bleeding 
from  the  mouth.  It's  a  great  mercy  his  neck  wasn't 
broken,  for  he  evidently  pitched  head  foremost;  and 
it  would  have  been,  no  doubt,  and  some  limbs,  too, 
only  for  those  projections  which  broke  the  force  of 
the  fall.  But  we  must  get  him  home  now  as  quickly 
and  easily  as  possible." 

Tom,  the  coachman,  having  followed  in  the  wake 
of  the  others,  with  the  carryall,  from  which  the  seats 
had  been  removed  and  springs  and  a  mattress  laid 
upon  its  floor,  the  injured  man  was  carried  carefully 
home  in  this,  to  be  tenderly  nursed  back  to  life  and 
health;  and  principally,  by  a  distracted,  because  lov 
ing  girl,  who  could  seldom  be  persuaded  to  leave  his 
side.  There  were  at  first  several  days  of  anxious 
watching,  when  it  was  feared  that  consciousness  was 
doomed  never  to  return;  but  when  the  crisis  was  at 


206  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

length  safely  passed,  there  was  relief  and  joy  not  alone 
in  one  household,  but  throughout  the  entire  colony — 
for  Willard  was  a  universal  favorite — that  day  his 
eyes  had  first  opened  with  a  look  of  recognition  in 
them. 

"It  would  be  a  real  pleasure  to  be  sick  thus,  Mar 
garet"!  were  his  grateful  words  to  the  faithful  girl, 
a  few  days  later,  as  he  opened  his  eyes  from  a  re 
freshing  nap,  to  find  her,  as  usual,  seated  at  his  bed 
side  in  the  partially  darkened  room;  a  newly  received 
magazine  in  hand  with  which  to  entertain  him  should 
he  feel  so  disposed.  "Only  that  I  hate  to  think  of  the 
recreation  and  pleasure  it's  depriving  you  of." 

"O,  don't  worry  about  that,  Will,"  was  the  cheery 
rejoinder,  as  the  young  nurse  bent  over  him,  and  gen 
tly  raising  his  bandaged  head,  readjusted  the  pillows 
to  possibly  greater  comfort.  "It's  no  deprivation,  at 
all,  I  assure  you.  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  could  find 
any  enjoyment  in  such  things  while  one  of  the  family's 
lying  here  so  sick!  Why  I'm  not  quite  so  heartless 
as  all  that,  Will!  Besides,  it's  really  a  pleasure  to  be 
able  to  do  a  little  something  towards  brightening  these 
tedious  hours  for  you,"  concluded  the  girl,  warmly. 

"Do  you  really  mean  that,  Margaret?"  exclaimed 
the  sick  man  eagerly,  with  manifest  delight,  and  yet 
as  though  half  inclined  to  doubt. 

"Do  I  mean  it?  why  of  course  I  do!"  quickly  re 
turned  his  devoted  attendant;  adding  in  a  rather  hurt 
tone,  "have  you  any  reason  to  doubt  it,  Will?" 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  207 

"Then  let  it  be  not  only  my  sick  hours,  but  my  well 
ones,  too;  my  whole  life!"  burst  out  the  man.  "O, 
Margaret,  I  love  you;  be  my  wife!"  he  now  pleaded; 
affectionately  taking  her  hand. 

"O,  please  don't  talk  that  way,  Will!  now  you're 
spoiling  it  all!"  exclaimed  the  girl.  Instantly  with 
drawing  her  hand,  while  a  deeply  pained  look  settled 
upon  the  beautiful  and  noble  face.  For  Margaret 
Armstrong's  extremely  high  sense  of  honor  had  been 
outraged  at  once  by  this  seeming  gross  lack  of  loyalty 
to  a  previous  and  absent  sweetheart.  Out  of  mind 
because  out  of  sight,  she  thought. 

"But  why  should  I  not  talk  that  way,  Margaret? 
Are  you  not  free  to  listen?"  asked  the  man  in  quick 
surprise. 

"Why  yes;  /  am  free  enough;  but  you;  that  other 
girl!" 

"What  other  girl,  Margaret?"  questioned  her  mys 
tified  companion. 

"Why  that  Chicago  girl;  the  one  you — er — love!" 
she  blurted  out. 

"But  I  don't  love  any  Chicago  girl!"  protested  the 
man.  "On  the  contrary  I'm  not  even  acquainted  with 
any  girl  there.  Why  what  put  that  notion  into  your 
head,  dearest?"  he  asked,  very  lovingly,  and  again 
possessing  himself  of  the  withdrawn  hand. 

"Why  Mrs.  Nichols  said  so." 

"There's  surely  a  great  mistake  or  something  here, 
somewheres,  Margaret!"  now  exclaimed  the  puzzled 


208  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

man,  excitedly.  "Such  a  story  as  that  could  only  have 
been  made  out  of  whole  cloth,  and  Mrs.  Nichols  is 
not  a  woman  to  do  a  thing  like  that,  it  seems  to  me. 
Besides,  she  could  have  no  conceivable  motive.  When 
did  she  tell  you  this?"  he  demanded. 

"Why — don't  you  remember  Will?  On  the  train 
coming  out;  when  she  accused  you  of  being  in  love"; 
replied  the  girl,  with  some  hesitation,  and  a  bit  sheep 
ishly,  it  must  be  confessed. 

"Any  other  time?"  persisted  the  determined  ques 
tioner. 

"No,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  confirming  shake  of 
her  head. 

"Why  my  dear  girl !"  now  exclaimed  the  relieved 
and  smiling  lover,  as  he  settled  back  upon  his  pillows 
and  drew  the  'dear  girl'  nearer;  "how  you  have  been 
deceiving  yourself!  Mrs.  Nichols  was  referring  to 
you  r 

"Referring  to  me,  Will !"  repeated  the  girl  in  blank 
est  surprise,  though  with  a  noticeably  brightening  face. 
"Why  how  could  she  know  that  you  loved  me,  and  at 
that  time,  too?" 

"Simply  because  her  quick  perceptions  in  such  mat 
ters  detected  it  when  we  were  all  at  home  together 
last  Winter." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you've  been  loving  me 
ever  since  then,  Will!"  ejaculated  the  girl,  incredu 
lously. 

"I  most  certainly  have,   dearest,  and  with  all  my 


DISPELLED  MISUNDERSTANDING  209 

heart!"  came  the  quick  and  hearty  response  to  this 
astonished  question. 

"Well  then,  Will,"  confessed  the  enlightened  girl, 
bashfully  looking  up  after  a  moment's  thoughtful 
pause;  "I  believe  it  has  been  mutual!" 

"Then  you  are  mine,  Margaret?"  exclaimed  the 
lover  rapturously;  as  with  a  momentary  accession  of 
strength  he  suddenly  assumed  a  sitting  posture. 

"Yes,  Will";  whispered  the  girl,  sweetly. 

"Then  come  to  my  arms,  dearest!  my  very  own, 
at  last!" 

And  waiting  for  no  second  invitation,  a  radiant 
though  blushing  face  was  quickly  hidden  over  a  heart 
that  had  long  been  held  in  needless  suspense,  but 
whose  empty  chambers  were  at  length  filled  to  their 
depths  with  a  far  more  than  compensating  satisfaction 
and  joy. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

TWO  WEDDINGS. 

"Since    the    world    began,    the    Sun    had    never 
shone   upon   two   handsomer   or   happier   brides." 

'A  merry  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine' ;  hence, 
Willard  Manning's  recovery  was  so  rapid  from  that 
glorious  day  of  dispelled  misunderstanding,  that  ten 
days  later  found  the  Armstrong  and  Nichols  homes 
at  the  Lake  closed  for  the  season,  and  their  erstwhile 
occupants  once  more  a  moving  cavalcade  over  the 
mountains.  Of  the  charm  and  delight  of  their  pre 
vious  trip  we  have  already  written  at  length ;  but  these 
were  mild  compared  to  those  of  the  return,  for  the 
whole  party  was  now  infected  by  the  exuberant  happi 
ness  of  four  of  its  number,  for  whom,  since  then,  a 
new  existence  had  begun.  The  Sun  of  its  first  bright 
day  had  arisen  with  no  cloud  casting  a  shadow 
athwart  its  golden  beams;  in  fact,  they  were  yet 
revelling  in  the  faint,  rosy  streaks  of  its  new  and  ever 
brightening  dawn,  and  every  moment  was  therefore 
freighted  with  undimmed  lustre  and  unshadowed  joy. 

Ah,  those  halcyon  days!  particularly  in  the  life  of 
a  girl.  For  while  love  is  but  a  part  of  his  life  to  man, 
to  woman  it  is  the  whole.  And  these  early  days  of 
love's  dream,  it  is,  which  furnish  a  first,  and  in 
deed  welcome  excuse  for  that  extravagant  hero  wor- 


TWO  WEDDINGS  211 

ship,  so  dear  to  the  average  feminine  heart;  when  to 
Angelina's  innocent,  confident  love,  which  doubt  can 
not  assail,  Algernon  is  not  merely  a  hero,  but  the 
actual  composite  of  all  the  virtues  of  all  the  heroes 
and  all  the  saints  of  all  the  ages.  Blissful  ignorance! 
where  is  the  disappointed  soul  bitter  enough  or  cruel 
enough  to  disturb  it? 

Mrs.  Nichols  was  also  in  an  exceedingly  jubilant 
frame  of  mind,  for  she  was  hastening  home  to  meet 
'Georgie';  now  a  passenger  aboard  a  home-bound 
ocean  liner,  and  charged  moreover  with  the  delightful 
and  important  duty  of  assisting  not  only  one,  as  she 
had  anticipated,  but  two  brides-elect  in  the  selecting 
and  ordering  of  their  trousseaus;  for  the  lovers  had 
each  urged  a  speedy  marriage,  the  dates  of  which  had 
been  set  for  the  late  Fall,  in  consequence.  It  became 
necessary  therefore  for  Mrs.  Armstrong  to  conserve 
her  meagre  strength — which  had  gained  but  little 
during  the  Summer — against  the  fatigue  of  these  and 
intervening  functions;  so  that  she  had  felt  obliged 
to  forego  the  pleasure  of  the  trip  with  her  daughter 
to  the  Eastern  metropolis,  where  all  the  bridal  finery 
was  to  be  made. 

Now  in  matters  of  dress,  there  are  just  three 
really  important,  red-letter  days  in  the  life  of  a  girl,  be 
she  richer  or  poorer;  the  wardrobes  of  her  dolls,  her 
own  trousseau,  and  the  outfit  of  her  first-born.  Our 
girls  were  now  arrived  at  the  second  milestone,  and 
one  must  needs  have  been  through  the  mill  herself,  in 
order  to  fully  comprehend  the  thrill  of  those  weeks 


212  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

in  the  'Windy  City';  each  day  ushered  in,  as  it  was, 
with  a  heart-fluttering  wait  and  listen  for  the  post 
man's  ring,  and  closed  with  a  final  perusal  of  the  last 
precious  love  missive — already  gotten  by  heart. 
While  the  hours  between  comprised  a  delightful 
round  of  shopping  tours  and  visits  to  modistes  and 
milliners  by  day,  and  of  entertainments  by  night;  for 
it  was  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime  for  their  proud 
hostess  to  present  two  such  attractive,  now  doubly 
interesting  girls,  to  the  large  circle  of  her  own  and 
her  brother-in-law's  admiring  friends. 

Yes,  those  were  delightful  and  truly  busy  days ;  for 
shops  must  be  ransacked  to  find  the  many  needed  and 
proper  accessories  for  every  gown ;  corresponding  hats 
and  shoes  and  gloves  must  be  ordered  to  accompany 
and  complete  every  costume;  and  there  were  endless 
fittings  of  linings  and  the  most  careful  giving  and 
noting  of  detail  for  the  wonderful  creations  to  be 
built  thereon.  In  Lingerie  alone,  would  their  varying 
types  permit  of  sameness,  but  the  duplicate  order 
placed  for  this,  called  for  a  bewildering  array  of  the 
finest  of  cambrics,  lawns  and  dimities,  set  off  with 
billows  of  filmy  lace  run  through  and  bowed  with 
daintiest  of  ribbons,  and  exquisitely  monogramed. 

But  the  business  of  the  happy  days  was  at  last 
accomplished  and  our  young  friends  again  at  home 
and  preparing  for  the  elaborate  Tea,'  at  which  they 
were  formally  introduced  and  their  engagements  an 
nounced  to  Mrs.  Armstrong's  hosts  of  friends,  and 
these  immediately  thereafter  began  vicing  with  each 


TWO  WEDDINGS  213 

other  in  offering  the  usual  round  of  complimentary 
entertainments,  which  combine  to  make  of  the  ante 
nuptial  days  of  a  favored  bride-elect,  a  season  of  such 
pleasurable  and  memorable  gaiety;  all  leading  so 
gracefully  up  to  that  crowning  event  of  events,  her 
marriage. 

But  of  those  two  weddings — solemnized  but  a  few 
weeks  though  many  miles  apart — which  followed 
these  festivities,  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  weary  the 
reader  with  detailed  accounts,  although  suitably  bril 
liant  affairs  they  both  were.  Margaret's  taking  place 
in  the  loved  home  in  which  she  had  been  born  and 
reared,  her  dainty  young  friend  her  only  attendant; 
Gertrude's  in  the  spacious  Lincoln  Park  residence  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Nichols,  Chicago;  at  which 
the  matron  of  honor  was  naturally,  Mrs.  Willard 
Manning. 

Many  months  of  leisurely  European  travel  followed 
these  notable  functions,  its  itinerary  extending  from 
East  to  West  and  from  the  River  Nile  to  the  North 
Cape;  the  pleasures  of  which  were  of  course  doubled, 
because  participated  in  jointly  by  the  newly  wedded 
pairs,  so  thoroughly  congenial  in  tastes,  and  all  so 
fond  of  each  other.  But  details  of  this,  also,  we  must 
omit,  save  an  account  of  its  one  disappointment,  con 
tained  in  the  following  extract  from  one  of  Margaret's 
Paris  letters  to  her  mother,  which  ran:  The  charm 
and  delights  of  this  entrancing  city  have  been  as  great 
for  us,  I  take  it,  as  they  were  for  you  and  dear  Papa 
on  your  honeymoon  tour,  and  evidently  are  for  all 


214  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

visitors  to  it.  It  has  held  for  us  our  first  disappoint 
ment,  however;  missing  the  Lindsays,  whom  we 
have  all  been  looking  so  happily  forward  to  meeting 
upon  our  arrival  here.  But  Jack,  it  seems,  has  sud 
denly  become  famous  through  a  wonderful  picture 
sent  to  the  Spring  exhibition,  and  for  which — so  we 
hear — large  sums  have  been  offered;  his  name  is  on 
every  tongue.  Hattie  and  he  have  just  started  on 
quite  an  extended  vacation,  so  we  found  the  studio 
and  their  apartments  closed,  and  the  precious  canvas 
safely  stored ;  thus  we  have  missed  seeing  it,  much  to 
our  regret,  of  course,  but  you  can  well  imagine  how 
proud  we  all  feel  to  be  able  to  claim  friendship  with 
the  talented  artist/ 

Now  it  is  not  with  conjugal  love,  but  romantic,  that 
a  tale  such  as  this  has  to  do;  hence,  its  limitations 
forbid  any  extended  reference  to  the  perfect  and  en 
during  felicity  which  crowned  the  unions  of  our 
worthy  heroines  with  the  husbands  of  their  hearts* 
choice.  True,  other  hearts  had  bled  and  suffered 
that  these  well  mated  couples  might  wed;  but  as  in 
neither  instance  had  this  been  caused  by  coquetry  or 
fickleness,  there  were  no  accusing,  remorseful  con 
sciences  to  mar  the  happiness  of  Margaret  Manning 
or  Gertrude  Nichols;  and  certain  it  is,  that  since  the 
world  began,  the  sun  had  never  shone  upon  two 
handsomer  or  happier  brides. 

END  OF  PART  I. 


PART  TWO 


BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

or  

THE  CHECKERED  ROMANCE  of  TWO 
GENERATIONS 


PART  TWO 


CHAPTER  I. 

GOOD   FORTUNE  AND   BAD TWO   ORPHANS. 

"For    'tis    the    living,    not    the    dead, 
Who  feel   Death's   biting  sting." 

Facing  the  ruddy  glow  and  pleasant  warmth  from  a 
blazing  pile  of '  fragrant  pine  logs,  that  hissed  and 
crackled  in  the  commodious  fireplace  of  a  cozy  sitting 
room  in  one  of  the  most  pretentious  homes  in  the  city 
of  Denver,  Colorado,  one  chilly  October  evening  in 
the  early  eighties,  sat  a  sprightly  and  pleasantly  agi 
tated  young  matron,  with  puckered  brow,  well  sharp 
ened  pencil  in  hand,  and  telegram  pad  upon  her  lap, 
alternately  scribbling  and  tearing  up;  scribbling  and 
tearing  up.  Not  until  a  round  dozen  of  the  ruled 
yellow  slips  had  helped  feed  the  flames  at  which  she 
toasted  her  small,  well  slippered  feet,  had  a  dispatch 
to  her  evident  satisfaction  been  framed,  and,  with 
a  deep-drawn  sigh  as  of  relief,  placed  in  the  hands  of 
the  patiently  waiting  messenger  whom  she  had 


218  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

shortly  before  hastily  summoned.  A  gushing-  an 
nouncement,  typically  feminine  as  to  length,  upon  the 
blank,  ran:  'It's  a  girl — An  exaggerated  copy  of  the 
lovely  mother — So  now  you  know  just  what  an  ex 
quisite  little  darling  you're  uncle  to/  The  message 
was  addressed  to  the  Lincoln  Park,  Chicago,  resi 
dence  of  Mr.  George  Nichols;  and  but  a  very  few 
hours  later  the  equally  typical :  'Sincerest  congratula 
tions/  had  been  wired  back  by  its  expectant 
recipient 

It  will  not  be  necessary,  we  think,  for  us  to  intro 
duce  to  our  earlier  readers  the  sender  of  the  above 
jubilant  and  very  eulogistic  message,  who  must  surely 
be  at  once  recognized  as  the  officious  sister-in-law  of 
Clayton  Nichols'  courtship  days;  and  whose  interest 
in  all  that  concerned  him  and  his  was  still  so  deep  and 
lively,  that  she  had  journeyed  westward  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  being  present  upon  the  momentous 
occasion  of  the  birth  of  his  first-born. 

'It's  a  girl/  she  had  stated.  And  rapturously  wel 
comed  into  life  as  this  child  had  been,  never  was  a 
little  daughter  more  earnestly  desired  than  she,  either ; 
especially  perhaps  by  the  young  mother,  and  partic 
ularly  after  the  birth,  a  few  months  before,  of  a  son 
and  heir  to  the  neighboring  household,  that  of  the 
Mannings. 

Now  Margaret  Armstrong  and  Gertrude  Warfield 
during  their  college  days  had  been  as  constantly  to 
gether  and  as  much  to  each  other  as  the  most  tender 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  219 

and  affectionate  of  sisters.  The  bond  of  friendship 
which  had  at  first,  and  so  quickly,  sprung  up  between 
them,  had  very  soon  ripened  into  the  most  real  of 
love;  and  as  time  went  by,  and  with  the  perfect  com 
plement  of  their  natures  the  one  to  the  other  making 
a  jar  of  any  sort  between  them  impossible — their 
affairs  du  coeur  had  fortunately  not  crossed — this  love 
had  seemed  to  develop  into  a  positive  passion.  The 
dread  of  separation  in  after  life,  held  almost,  if  not 
quite,  as  much  dread  for  each,  as  could  have  existed 
had  they  been  the  same  true  lovers  of  opposite  sexes. 
Surely  it  had  been  a  gracious  fate  which  decreed  that 
the  business  interests  of  their  respective  husbands 
should  tie  them  to  the  same  spot;  Clayton  Nichols, 
prior  to  his  marriage,  having  resigned  from  the  super- 
intendency  of  the  'Alice'  mine,  and  established  himself 
in  a  stock  brokerage  business  in  their  growing  and 
promising  city;  and  located  in  adjoining  homes,  the 
young  matrons  were  still  therefore  the  same  constant 
companions  as  during  girlhood  days. 

Well  qualified  and  equipped  as  they  were  to  adorn 
it,  Society,  in  a  round  of  splendid  affairs,  had  hastened 
to  open  wide  its  doors  to  welcome  them  to  its  ranks, 
upon  the  return  from  the  joint  honeymooning  abroad ; 
and  two  years  of  gaiety  had  been  theirs  before  that 
any  weightier  cares  first  fell  to  the  lot  of  either. 
Then  came  the  advent  into  the  world  of  little  Robert 
Armstrong  Manning;  a  finely  formed  boy,  who  ap 
peared  to  fully  vindicate  the  theory  that  the  children 


220  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

of  love  are  usually  beautiful  and  intelligent;  for  over 
his  conception,  like  a  brilliant  star,  an  unusually  deep, 
mutual  affection  had  shone,  whose  glowing  yet  tender 
light  seemed  to  have  settled  in  heavenly  benediction 
upon  the  child.  Other  babies  there  were  as  fair  and 
good  perhaps,  none  more  so ;  and  many  were  the 
encomiums  heaped  upon  him,  none  of  which  probably 
was  more  highly  descriptive,  sincere,  or  more  deeply 
appreciated  by  the  proud  young  mother,  than  that  of 
Winnie,  her  laundress;  to  whom,  in  moments  of  ex 
cited  forgetfulness,  the  new  made  parent  was  yet  but 
the  young  lady  of  the  house. 

"O,  but  it's  the  broth  iv  a  b'y  ye  have  there,  Miss 
Margaret!"  was  her  delighted  exclamation,  at  sight 
of  the  few  days  old  child — a  three-by-six  smile  of  con 
scious  pride  in  her  young  mistress  beaming  from  her 
homely  face — "  a  broth  iv  a  b'y,  wid  yer  own  beautiful 
eyes  a-lukin'  up  at  me  so  knowin'  loike  out  o'  'is 
father's  foine  shaped  head;  an'  'im  that  smilin'  an' 
happy  lukin'  that  it's  doin'  me  own  heart  good  to  be 
a-seein'  'im ;  God  bless  'im !  Shure  an'  it'll  be  the 
pride  o'  me  loife  to  be  a  washin'  an'  a-ironin'  'is 
faery  clo'es!" 

Now,  mothers,  like  poets,  are  born,  not  made;  and 
the  birth  of  this  child,  proved  our  Margaret  to  have 
been  richly  dowered  with  those  pre-eminent  charac 
teristics  of  the  true  mother;  selfless  love  and  untiring 
patience.  Utter  devotion  to  the  requirements  of  the 
little  son  at  once  became  a  passion  of  life  with  her. 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  221 

Nurse  might  get  together  the  elaborate  paraphernalia 
for  his  bath,  and  grandmama  sit  by  to  offer  the  sug 
gestions  of  experience;  but  only  by  the  hands  of  the 
adoring  mother  might  the  actualities  of  the  task  be 
performed,  and  the  glowing  little  body  arrayed  in  its 
dainty  apparel.  And  when,  at  last,  the  drooping  lids 
had  hidden  from  view  the  innocent,  baby  eyes,  filled 
with  wonderment  yet  turned  so  trustingly  up  to  her's 
as  he  clung  to  the  fountain  of  life,  when  the  eager  lips 
had  relinquished  their  hold  upon  and  the  delicate,  rosy 
fingers  had  ceased  their  caressing  wandering  over  his 
white,  shining  world,  and  clasping  him  to  her  heart, 
entranced  with  happiness  and  overpowered  with  grat 
itude,  she  had  tiptoed  to  che  snowy  white  crib  to  lay 
her  precious  burden  among  the  fresh,  cool  linens,  even 
then  it  was  difficult  to  tempt  her  from  his  side ;  where 
she  would  sit  and  listen  anxiously  for  the  gentle 
breathing,  the  while  dreaming  such  wonderful  dreams 
and  building  such  towering  castles  for  the  future  of 
her  blessed  eldest. 

Moreover,  in  her  loved  friend,  the  fond  mother  had 
ever  a  listener  in  full  and  sympathetic  accord  with  all 
her  most  extravagant  imaginings,  an  equally  energetic 
discoverer  of  her  baby's  charms  and  a  no  less  ardent 
admirer  of  them.  Together  they  would  sit  daily  be 
side  his  little  bed,  weaving  the  most  roseate  of  ro 
mances,  in  which  little  Robert  was  always  the  fairy 
prince  who  should  come  and  carry  off  the  little  heiress 
next  door;  "for  of  course,  if  ^ve  should  have  a 


222  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

daughter,  as  we  hope  we  shall,  now  that  little  Robert 
has  come — they  will  grow  up  to  love  each  other,  and 
marry" ;  was  the  never  varying  and  most  confident  as 
sertion  of  Gertrude  Nichols  at  all  such  conversations. 
"O,  Margaret!"  she  would  exclaim,  rapturously,  "just 
picture  the  joy  of  that  day  when  we  shall  see  our 
two  dear  children  made  one !" 

As  we  have  already  learned,  there  was  no  dis 
appointment  in  these  matters,  from  when  little  Robert 
had  been  the  pet  and  plaything  of  them  all  for  just 
four  months  and  a  week,  the  desired  little  daughter 
had  been  sent  to  gladden  the  hearts  of  her  waiting 
parents;  thus  making  possible  that  union  between 
their  descendants — should  both  children  live — so  fever 
ishly  longed  for  by  the  inseparable  mothers. 

Fair  and  sightly  as  a  lily  in  person,  it  had  required 
but  a  very  few  months  of  life  for  those  about  her  to 
discover  the  further  fact,  that  the  same  distinctive 
grace  and  sweetness  of  disposition  which  crowned  the 
parent  like  a  celestial  halo,  also  shed  the  lustre  of  its 
perfecting  rays  upon  the  ethereal  loveliness  of  her 
offspring;  thus  making  of  the  thing  of  beauty  a  joy 
to  all,  as  well. 

Alice  Gertrude,  they  called  the  little  stranger;  for 
the  lover-husband  would  have  the  name  of  her  dear 
mother  perpetuated,  and  Aunt  Alice  had  pleaded  irre 
sistibly  for  a  namesake.  And  little  Robert, — talking 
even  before  he  could  walk — early  formed  the  habit  of 
hitching  himself  across  the  floor  of  their  respective 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  223 

nurseries  to  the  side  of  his  slightly  younger  companion, 
and  patting  her  pretty  cheek  or  kissing  her  tiny  hand 
with  a  very  near  approach  to  gallantry,  would  murmur 
in  his  baby  jargon:  'Deah  Awice;  pitty  Awice!'  At 
which  the  little  maiden  would  laugh  and  coo  with  the 
most  evident  relish  and  delight;  such  cunning  scenes 
always  filling  the  hearts  of  Margaret  and  Gertrude 
with  the  deepest  joy,  since  they  appeared  to  them  un 
mistakable  evidences  of  that  fondness  for  each  other 
upon  the  part  of  their  children,  so  fervently  longed  for 
by  both  during  pre-natal  days. 

Now,  while  the  furnishing  of  these  brief  details  as 
to  the  disposition  of  these  two  very  young  children 
towards  each  other,  and  the  cause  lying  back  of  it, 
may  strike  the  reader  as  unimportant,  we  trust  this 
portion  of  our  tale  will  not  be  passed  over  without 
careful  noting,  as  it  holds  the  key  to  a  fair  and  in 
telligent  judgment  of  their  future  conduct,  when,  by 
the  natural  progress  of  our  story  and  the  ceaselessly 
revolving  wheel  of  Time,  they  shall  have  been  whirled 
into  the  center  of  life's  stage ;  there,  in  the  lime-light, 
to  engross  our  attention,  as  unaided  and  alone  they 
play  the  parts  assigned  them  in  its  drama,  and  by  the 
excellence  or  failure  of  their  performance  incline  us  to 
approving  encore,  or  mayhap,  to  an  ignominious  hiss 
ing  of  them  from  the  scene. 

At  the  time  with  which  we  are  now  dealing,  how 
ever,  they  were — 


224  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

'But  fair,   frail  gifts;   uncertain  as   the  rifts  of 

light 

Which  lie  along  the  sky ;  and  might  not  be  there 
bye-and-bye.' 

As  the  irrepressible  little  beings  developed  into 
thinking,  acting  personalities,  the  perfect  suitability 
of  their  natures  to  each  other  became  conspicuous  to 
all;  the  one,  though  bold,  masterful  and  imperious 
naturally,  plainly  dominated  by  a  sense  of  chivalry  and 
a  protecting  fondness ;  the  other,  timid,  yielding,  wor 
shipful.  As  a  tender  vine,  upspringing  beside  some 
sapling  oak,  finds  encouragement  and  support  in  cling 
ing  to  and  twining  its  projecting  tendrils  around  the 
firm  though  slender  trunk,  so  in  all  their  childish  inter 
course,  to  little  Alice,  Robbie  was  the  all-sufficient  one ; 
he  was  her  oracle;  from  the  absolute  infallibility  of 
whose  judgment  or  opinion  there  was  with  her  no  such 
thought  as  appeal.  At  the  age  of  five,  he  had  taken 
up  the  quaint  and  strange  habit  of  speaking  of  her  to 
every  one  as  'my  little  wife;'  after  which,  the  oddest 
and  seemingly  prophetic  conversations  would  fre 
quently  be  heard  between  them.  Were  they  having 
what  they  termed  a  little  tea-party,  over  their  make- 
believe  it  would  be :  "Where  did  you  get  this  tea  from, 
father?  I  think  it's  very  good";  and  the  little  man 
would  reply:  "Why,  I  got  it  from  Morgan's  this 
time,  mother;  I'm  glad  you  like  it."  (Copying  their 
elders,  of  course.) 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  225 

These,  and  many  similar  striking  expressions  would 
not  so  much  amuse  as  make  glad  the  hearts  of  the 
listening  mothers;  for  while  to  others  they  might 
sound  dull  and  uninteresting  by  repetition,  they  were 
to  them  indicative  of  that  pre-natal  betrothal  of  heart 
between  their  offspring,  for  which  these  sister  souls 
had  so  devoutly  longed. 

Now,  if  it  be  true  as  we  are  told,  that  like  is  be 
gotten  of  like,  then  for  children  born  and  bred  amid 
such  favoring  circumstance  as  these  little  ones,  none 
but  the  most  perfect  ultimate  development  of  their 
dual  natures  might  with  reason  be  anticipated.  Time 
will  tell.  True  it  is,  that  as  the  dainty  bud  of 
Childhood,  gradually  unfolding,  disclosed  to  view  the 
spreading  petals  of  Youth's  bright,  beautiful  flower, 
there  was  visible  no  'destroying  worm  i'  the  bud'  to 
later  gnaw  defacing  blemishes  upon  the  inner  heart 
leaves  of  either  of  these  most  promising  young  plants, 
and  their  deep,  ingenuous  and  growing  fondness  for 
each  other  was  cause  for  constant  comment  among 
friends;  by  whom  they  were  often  jokingly  referred 
to  as  'the  Siamese  Twins'. 

Thus,  upon  these  two  households,  unrelated  by  any 
ties  of  blood  though  virtually  one  in  interest  and 
thought  and  purpose,  each  containing,  as  it  did,  a  beau 
tiful,  devoted  and  loving  wife  and  mother,  a  proud  and 
most  tender  husband  and  father,  and  an  idolized  and 
affectionate  child,  not  burdened  with  the  responsibility 
and  wearing  care  of  useless  riches,  but  rather  blessed 


226  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

with  an  enjoyable  competence  which  permitted  a  gen 
erous  and  cheerful  giving  to  the  needs  of  those  less 
favored  than  themselves,  surely  it  might  be  said  that 
with  lavish  kindness  had  the  gifts  of  God  been  strewn. 

There  is  nothing  the  world  so  grudges  us  as  hap 
piness,  however,  we  are  told ;  although  up  to  this  point 
in  the  lives  of  these  highly  favored  families,  it's  ever 
smiling  face  had  been  a  striking  refutation  of  the  pessi 
mistic  charge.  A  full  decade  had  now  passed  since 
their  inception,  in  which  no  startling,  unusual  or  un 
toward  experiences  had  marked  the  flight  of  time,  and 
for  several  succeeding  years,  also,  the  same  blessed 
humdrumness  of  existence  which  had  hitherto  made 
their  lives  ideal,  was  theirs ;  leaving  us  with  prac 
tically  no  new  thing  of  them  to  record,  save  that  in 
the  meantime,  the  pure  spirit  of  Mrs.  Armstrong,  one 
of  the  noblest  and  best  fitted  that  had  ever  tenanted  a 
house  of  clay,  had  been  recalled  to  the  God  who  gave 
it,  and  Willard  Manning  had  been  elevated  to  the 
presidency  of  the  banking  institution  in  which  all  of 
his  working  life  had  been  spent. 

Financially  able,  as  both  were,  to  allow  themselves 
considerable  of  gentlemanly  leisure,  these  husbands 
had  always  taken  time  to  become  acquainted  with  their 
families,  by  participating  to  an  unusual  degree  in  the 
pleasures  of  their  wives  and  children,  thus  extracting 
from  them  the  maximum  of  enjoyment;  for  extended 
joys  always  increase.  A  number  of  happy  Summers  had 
these  constant  associates  passed  together  at  the  beauti- 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD 

f ul  Lake,  so  precious  in  its  memories  and  associations ; 
some  few,  for  variety's  sake,  had  been  spent  at  Eastern 
resorts;  during  that  of  '91  they  had  all  made  a  tour 
of  the  British  Isles;  that  of  '92  had  been  given  to 
Chicago  and  vicinity,  doing  the  great  Exposition  in  a 
leisurely  and  comfortable  fashion.  The  Winters  had 
mostly  been  spent  at  home,  where  abundance  of 
domestic  and  social  pleasure  was  their  happy  lot. 

Up  to  this  time,  we  pause  a  moment  to  repeat,  life's 
aspect  had  been  ever  smiling  and  bright;  but  'Into 
each  life  some  rain  must  fall ;  some  days  must  be  dark 
and  dreary.'  Were  it  not  so,  the  otherwise  productive 
garden  of  the  heart  might  become  so  parched  and 
hardened  'neath  the  burning  heat  from  constantly  un 
clouded  skies,  that  the  gentle  fruits  of  the  spirit,  unable 
to  force  their  growth  upward  through  the  sun-baked 
soil,  arrested  by  the  confines  of  their  narrow  bed, 
must  ultimately  wither  away  and  die.  Misery,  how 
ever,  does  not  like  to  be  alone;  thus  it  happens  that 
troubles — like  our  wife's  relations — frequently  indulge 
themselves  in  that  obnoxious  habit  of  pouncing  down 
upon  us  in  unwelcome  companies  of  twos  and  threes; 
and  'born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  to  fly  upward,'  these, 
our  long  exempted  friends,  were  now  about  to  have 
meted  out  to  them  an  overflowing  cup  of  sorrow  and 
disaster. 

It  was  the  early  Spring  of  '93;  that  well  remem 
bered  year  of  industrial  depression  and  hard  times. 
Collections  were  slow  and  unsatisfactory,  values 


228  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

steadily  shrinking.  The  banks  of  the  country  were 
overhauling  their  securities,  subjecting  them  to  very 
searching  examinations,  and  calling  in  loans  upon  all 
but  the  very  gilt-edged  ones  as  rapidly  as  possible. 
The  Armstrong-Sherwood  Banking  Company,  old  es 
tablished,  conservative  and  unquestionably  sound,  was 
following  the  general  policy,  and  in  pursuance  of  it, 
President  Manning  had  planned  a  hurried  trip  to  the 
then  comparatively  new  Cripple  Creek  mining  district, 
to  acquaint  himself  more  fully  as  to  the  value  of  cer 
tain  very  promisingly  described  properties  there  sit 
uated,  upon  which  loans  had  been  made  during  his 
absence  of  the  previous  Summer;  and  as  Clayton 
Nichols — from  knowledge  and  experience  an  au 
thority  on  such  matters — had  offered  his  services  as 
examiner  of  these  mines,  together  the  friends  had  one 
day  set  off  for  the  district;  making  the  first  stage  of 
their  journey,  to  Colorado  Springs,  by  rail,  thence 
with  livery  rig  and  driver,  through  deep,  dark 
canyons  and  up  and  down  the  slopes  of  towering 
mountains,  to  their  destination. 

The  return  of  the  rig  having  been  expected  four 
days  from  hiring,  when  it  had  failed  to  put  in  an 
appearance  during  the  fifth,  a  horseman  had  been  sent 
out  over  the  proposed  route  in  search  of  the  belated 
party,  and  at  the  bottom  of  a  rocky  gorge,  hundreds 
of  feet  below  the  precipice  over  which  they  had  fallen, 
was  found  the  battered,  lifeless  remains  of  men  and 
horses,  and  the  wrecked  vehicle.  There  was  no  one 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  229 

left  to  tell  the  tale  of  their  unhappy  fate,  but  the  sup 
position  was  that  the  brake  had  failed  to  work  when 
they  began  the  steep  descent  after  reaching  the  summit 
on  the  return  trip,  frightening  the  horses,  who  had 
become  unmanageable  and  backed  themselves — prob 
ably  so  unexpectedly  and  quickly — over  the  slope,  that 
the  occupants  had  been  given  no  opportunity  to  jump 
and  make  at  least  an  attempt  to  save  themselves  by 
rolling  down  the  mountain.  It  had  been  a  most  ap 
palling  accident,  with  but  one  mitigating  hope:  death 
must  have  been  instantaneous  to  all. 

Thus  were  Margaret  Manning  and  Gertrude 
Nichols,  whose  lives  for  so  many  blissful  years  had 
been  inseparably  bound  together  in  the  supremest  joys 
and  happinesses  of  life,  plunged  also  together  into  the 
depths  of  its  deepest  woe; 

For  'tis  the  living,  not  the  dead, 
Who  feel  Death's  biting  sting. 

While  the  grief  of  each  of  these  devoted  wives  was 
crushing  and  heart-breaking  in  the  extreme,  in  the 
case  of  Mrs.  Nichols  it  resulted  in  fatal  prostration; 
for  her  nature — as  we  once  advised  our  readers — had 
not  in  it  the  same  degree  of  force  as  that  of  her 
equally  bereaved  friend,  and  her  powers  of  endurance, 
naturally  weaker,  had  received  no  strengthening  or 
even  stimulation,  from  the  unbroken  sweetness  and 
even  tenor  of  her  life.  As  we  have  formerly  described 


230  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

her,  Gertrude  was  a  being  made  essentially  for  loving 
and  petting;  and  save  for  the  sad,  early  loss  of  her 
parents,  life's  touch  upon  her  had  been  one  long,  en 
during  caress.  Both  as  lover  and  husband,  he  to  whom 
she  had  given  her  fresh  young  heart  and  life,  had  made 
her  the  object  of  his  adoration.  To  see  that  not  even 
a  momentary  shadow  of  disappointment,  anxiety  or 
care  should  be  cast  upon  her  heart  or  mind,  seemed 
always  to  be  his  chief  thought  and  aim  in  life ;  and  his 
greatest  source  of  hapiness  lay  ever  in  the  conscious 
ness  that  Gertie  felt  happy  and  looked  pretty.  Theirs 
had  indeed  been  a  home  where  Mamma  reigned  su 
preme  ;  for  apeing  her  father's  constant  and  beautiful 
example,  the  little  Alice  had  soon  formed  the  quaint 
and  pretty  habit  of  petting  her  mother,  and  of  study 
ing  to  discover  and  of  catering  to,  her  slightest  sus 
pected  wish.  It  was  not  strange  therefore  that  such 
a  sudden  and  awful  tearing  from  her  of  the  husband 
who  had  so  unspeakably  endeared  himself  to  her, 
should  have  taken  out  of  Gertrude  Nichols'  heart  what 
had  grown  to  be  a  vital  principle,  and  without  which — 
hard  though  she  strove  to  do  so  for  her  loved  daugh 
ter's  sake — it  was  not  possible  for  her  long  to  live. 
Six  months  after  he  had  been  laid  away,  the  yearning, 
heart-broken  wife  was  resting  by  his  side,  and  Alice, 
now  a  sweetly  interesting  young  girl  of  quiet,  retiring 
disposition,  just  in  her  teens,  like  as  her  sainted  mother 
before  her,  had  been  left  an  orphan  at  a  very  tender 
age. 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  231 

But  troubles,  we  remember,  seldom  come  singly. 
On  the  morning  following  that  pathetic  double  funeral 
of  its  representative  citizens,  the  community  had 
learned,  with  astonishment  and  horror,  that  the  Arm 
strong-Sherwood  Banking  Company,  one  of  its  old 
and  supposedly  dependable  institutions,  had  not  a  dollar 
in  its  vaults ;  that  eighty  thousand  in  cash — which  its 
cautious  president  had  been  hoarding  against  the  pos 
sibility  of  any  sudden  panicky  run  upon  it,  and  which 
moreover  they  were  known  to  contain  but  a  few  days 
before — and  double  the  amount  of  its  most  valuable 
securities — to  be  held  doubtless  for  ransom — were  also 
missing;  that  the  cashier  had  suicided  during  the 
night,  by  hanging  'neath  a  trestle  near  town,  and  that 
the  bookkeeper,  his  son,  had  skipped  the  country. 

Now,  not  from  any  suspicion  of  the  men,  but  simply 
as  a  wise  business  precaution,  had  the  president  of  the 
institution  long  been  urging  an  experting  of  the  books ; 
but  the  suggestion  had  each  time  met  with  such  pro 
nounced  opposition  from  some  of  his  older,  brother 
officers  as  being  an  unwarranted  reflection  upon  the 
ability  and  integrity  of  such  old  and  trusted  employees, 
that  it  had  been  deferred.  It  was  now,  of  course,  done 
at  once,  and  revealed  the  almost  incredible  fact,  that 
by  a  very  clever  and  original  system  of  manipulation— 
which  it  is  unnecessary  and  would  perhaps  be  unwise 
to  elucidate  here — father  and  son  had  for  years  been 
carrying  on  a  systematic  stealing  of  the  bank's  funds. 
This  money,  it  developed,  had  all  been  lost  in  the 


232  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

wildest  of  speculation,  and  they  were  beside  heavily 
in  debt.  The  coming  on  of  hard  times  had  probably 
robbed  them  of  the  hope  of  recouping  their  losses  and 
making  good  their  peculations  before  discovery,  as 
they  had  quite  likely  intended  doing.  The  exposure 
that  would  follow  a  natural  overhauling  of  the  books 
upon  the  advent  of  a  new  head,  would  of  course  end 
their  opportunity  for  further  operations,  and  it  was 
supposed  that  in  a  moment  of  reckless  desperation  they 
had  decided  to  make  off  with  a  fortune.  When  and 
how  the  booty  had  been  removed  and  where  cached 
were  matters  of  conjecture  to  be  perhaps  solved  later. 
The  fact  that  the  lifeless  body  when  found  was  fully 
dressed,  even  to  the  hat,  and  that  a  small  valise  con 
taining  some  travelling  necessities  was  beside  it,  indi 
cated  plainly  that  both  the  culprits  had  intended  flight ; 
but  overcome  by  fear  or  remorse,  the  nerve  of  the 
elder  had  evidently  failed  at  the  critical  moment,  and 
the  last  short  act  in  the  nefarious  drama  in  which  both 
had  been  starring,  had  witnessed  the  ringing  down  of 
the  curtain  upon  the  father,  fearful  of  the  judgment  of 
his  fellows,  rushing  unbidden  to  the  bar  of  an  offended 
God,  and  the  son,  a  solitary  fugitive. 

It  had  been  one  of  those  disheartening  instances  of 
men  who  had  long  been  identified  with  a  community 
and  stood  well  in  it,  going  wrong,  which  inflict  such 
a  startling,  disagreeable  shock,  and  leave  such  a  fester 
ing,  painful  sore  upon  its  confidence;  while  the  sad 
and  haunting  pity  of  it  was,  that  a  young  soul  should 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  233 

have  been  lured  or  even  helped  down  from  the  dignity 
and  honor  of  its  high  estate  by  the  very  one  respon 
sible  for  its  being.  'Better  were  it  for  such  an  one 
that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that 
he  were  drowned  in  the  depths  of  the  sea/ 

The  wrecking  of  this  bank,  sad  to  say,  had  made 
a  very  appreciable  difference  in  the  financial  condition 
of  our  widowed  friends;  the  combined  fortunes  of 
Clayton  and  Gertrude  Nichols — both  of  whom  were 
not  only  depositors  but  stockholders,  in  the  defunct 
concern — having  been  reduced  by  it  from  more  than,  to 
somewhat  less  than,  one  quarter  of  a  million  dollars. 
But,  invested  in  the  'Alice'  and  other  good  paying 
mining  properties  and  several  pieces  of  desirable  real 
estate,  there  was  still  a  competence  for  their  orphaned 
child. 

Upon  Margaret  Manning,  however,  the  loss  had 
fallen  so  much  more  heavily,  that  when  her  affairs  had 
at  length  been  re-adjusted,  the  pretty,  though  not  costly 
place  at  the  mountain  lake,  and  the  ancestral  home,  in 
which  she  could  no  longer  afford  to  live,  represented 
the  sum  total  of  her  worldly  possessions,  her  income 
being  the  rental  from  the  home;  for  several  other 
pieces  of  valuable  property  had  the  noble  woman  in 
sisted  upon  turning  over  to  still  further  swell  the 
shrunken  assets  of  the  institution,  which  had  been 
practically  founded  by  and  still  bore  her  honored 
father's  name,  to  which  both  his  and  her  husband's 
short  lives  had  been  devoted,  and  in  which  the  family 


234  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

had  always  taken  a  just  pride;  to  the  end  that  settle 
ment  might  be  made  upon  a  more  nearly  even  basis. 
There  is  seldom,  perhaps  never,  in  life,  any  happen 
ing  so  bad  but  what  worse  might  have  been.  While 
the  intense  loneliness  without  her  devoted  and  com 
panionable  husband,  of  course  became  well  nigh  un 
endurable  at  times,  yet  the  sorrowing  woman  was 
greatly  comforted  by  the  consciousness  that  she  need 
not  mourn  as  one  without  hope;  while  as  for  material 
things,  Margaret  Manning's  training  had  been  a 
blessed  rooting  and  grounding  of  faith  in  the  declara 
tion  of  Holy  Writ,  that  'a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in 
the  abundance  of  the  things  that  he  possesseth' ;  that 
to  be,  not  have,  marks  the  truest  and  highest  living. 
And  although  it  could  not,  of  course,  be  easy  at  first 
for  one  born,  reared,  shielded  from  care  and  sur 
rounded  by  comforts,  as  she  had  always  been,  to  adapt 
herself  to  so  restricted  and  different  a  manner  of  life, 
yet  she  realized  with  thankfulness  that  there  still  re 
mained  enough  to  insure  them  a  modest  living,  and 
counted  herself  rich  indeed  while  blessed  with  such  a 
noble  son  to  love,  and  live  for,  and  soon,  indeed,  to  lean 
upon;  for  Robert  Manning,  now  in  his  teens,  was  a 
sturdy,  strapping,  fine  looking  boy,  of  whose  physical 
appearance  alone,  any  parent  might  well  be  proud. 
Mentally — well,  he  could  hardly  have  been  otherwise 
than  bright.  In  nature  he  was  unselfish,  loyal,  frank, 
truthful;  unusually  manly,  yet  intensely  affectionate, 
his  love  for  his  mother  still  a  passion  with  him,  as  it 


GOOD  FORTUNE  AND  BAD  235 

had  ever  conspicuously  been.  His  father's  death  he 
had  taken  very  deeply  to  heart,  for  theirs  had  been 
congenial  natures,  and  he  was  of  an  age  to  understand 
his  loss.  Its  effect  had  been  a  markedly  subduing  one 
upon  the  boisterous  enthusiasm  of  earlier  days,  which 
from  that  sad  period  began  to  give  place  to  a  quiet 
seriousness  of  habit  and  action. 

Always  a  beautiful  little  singer,  Robert  was  at  this 
age  the  boy  soloist  of  their  church's  youthful  vested 
choir;  and  as  the  lonely  mother,  from  her  near-by 
pew,  would  now  gaze  upon  the  bright,  uplifted  face, 
and  hearken  to  the  clear,  ringing  voice,  filling  the 
sacred  edifice  with  its,  to  her,  almost  seraphic  music, 
her  heart  would  overflow  with  pride  and  gratitude, 
and  from  its  swelling  depths  would  rise  a  pleading, 
oft-repeated : 

'Father,  he  is  my  only  joy; 
Protect  him,  Father,  bless  my  boy!' 


CHAPTER  II. 

GERALD  HARDING. 

"Too    many    cooks    will    spoil    the    broth;    and 
Gerald    had    been    spoiled;    lamentably    spoiled." 

Companions  and  playmates  from  infancy,  separa 
tions  between  Alice  Nichols  and  Robert  Manning  had 
been  few,  indeed,  up  to  this  time;  but  their  mutual 
dread  of  one  which  now  confronted  them,  showed  their 
youthful  hearts  to  be  yet  animated  by  a  very  deeply 
tender  feeling  towards  each  other.  The  innocently  out 
spoken  admiration  of  the  one,  and  the  flattering  con 
fidence  and  homage  of  the  other — of  which  we  have 
spoken,  during  their  earlier  childhood — had  never  died 
out;  those  sentiments  had  undergone  no  diminution, 
but  had  simply  resolved  themselves  into  a  more  mature, 
reserved  manner  of  expression,  as  added  years,  bring 
ing  self-consciousness,  had  made  them  sensitive  to  the 
notice  and  remarks  of  others. 

They  were  now  approaching  those  momentous  years, 
where-in  kind  Nature,  by  some  subtle,  indefinable, 
mysterious  physical  change,  prepares  the  human  animal 
for  its  divine  vocation,  the  propagation  of  the  race; 
and  by  this  change  develops  in  it  romantic  love,  or 
love  between  the  sexes.  That  really  beautiful,  even 
though  ofttimes  awkward  bashfulness  of  intercourse 


GERALD  HARDING  237 

between  a  girl  and  boy,  which  generally  does,  and  prop 
erly  should,  mark  this  period,  had  already  begun  to 
manifest  itself  in  theirs;  there  was  the  hesitating  def 
erence  of  advance,  and  the  shy  though  pleased  ac 
ceptance  ;  the  substitution  of  the  more  dignified  'Rob', 
for  childish  'Robbie' ;  and  the  greater  pleasure  which 
now  resulted  to  the  athletic  lad  from  a  quiet  stroll  with 
Alice  and  her  governness,  than  from  a  rollicking  game 
with  boyish  companions;  all  testifying  to  the  early 
stirrings  of  the  tender  passion. 

Upon  the  vacating  of  their  home  for  a  tenant,  Mar 
garet  Manning  and  her  son  had  taken  up  residence 
temporarily  with  Alice  and  her  mother;  and  as  the 
health  of  the  latter  very  soon  began  to  fail,  they  had 
continued  together  to  the  sad  end.  The  budding  girl 
and  boy  had  therefore  been  constant  companions,  for 
a  period  extending  over  several  months  in  which  afflic 
tion's  hand,  so  heavily  laid  upon  them  both,  had  knit 
their  emotional  young  hearts  together  in  that  closest  of 
all  uniting  bonds,  the  bond  of  a  common  sorrow; 
which  now  made  the  thought  of  parting  but  the  more 
unwelcome. 

The  care  of  the  orphaned  girl's  fortune  and  person, 
however,  had  been  entrusted  by  the  dying  mother  to 
the  paternal  uncle  who  was  her  only  living,  near,  male 
relative ;  and  Alice,  for  her  own  best  good,  had  there 
fore  been  soon  lovingly  won  to  consent  to  a  removal 
from  the  old  associations,  which  daily,  hourly,  brought 
afresh  to  her  mind  her  irreparable  loss ;  and  together 


238  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

with  the  devoted  Mademoiselle,  who  had  taught  her 
from  the  days  of  A-B-C,  was  soon  installed  as  a  mem 
ber  of  his  household.  As  we  shall  follow  the  future 
of  this  sweet,  young  girl  with  deep  and  sympathetic 
interest,  much  of  our  time  hereafter  will  also  be  spent 
in  the  less  genial  climate  of  the  city  by  the  Lake; 
where  we  shall  take  pleasure  in  renewing — and  let  us 
hope — in  deepening  our  acquaintance  with  Mrs. 
Nichols  and  'Georgie.' 

Now  it  was  not  an  altogether  new  experience  for 
this  childless  couple  to  be  entrusted  with  the  care  of 
an  orphaned  young  relative ;  although  in  a  former  in 
stance  the  responsibility  had  been  thrust  upon  them 
from  the  other  side  of  the  house,  and  the  object  had 
been  a  boy. 

Gerald  Harding  was  a  nephew  of  Mrs.  Nichols.  He 
had  first  opened  his  eyes  to  the  light  of  this  world  in 
her  father's  house,  when  she  herself  was  at  that  gush 
ing  age — scant  fifteen — at  which  to  the  average  girl 
a  baby  is  'just  the  dearest,  sweetest,  cutest  thing  that 
ever  happened.  She  had  not  much  more  than  laid  aside 
her  dolls  when  this  new,  more  interesting  plaything 
came  along ;  and  she  had  been  most  affectionately  de 
voted  to  the  little  fellow  from  the  very  first.  His 
mother — her  eldest  sister — had  married  against  her 
parents'  wishes,  very  young  and  hastily;  and  poor 
girl !  she  had  lived  to  sadly  rue  it.  After  several 
years  of  great  unhappiness,  she  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  her  cruel,  faithless  husband;  yet  she  had  loved 


GERALD  HARDING  239 

him  so,  this  handsome,  ardent,  fascinating  wooer,  that, 
utterly  broken  in  spirit,  with  the  pangs  of  disappointed 
hope  gnawing  like  canker  into  her  soul,  by  the  time 
the  child  had  reached  his  seventh  year  she  had  actually 
grieved  her  life  away.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nichols  had 
then  taken  little  Gerald  to  bring  him  up;  and  had  he 
been  their  own,  love  could  hardly  have  been  deeper, 
and  care  certainly  no  tenderer.  A  few  months  later, 
his  paternal  grandfather — dying  virtually  heart 
broken,  also,  because  of  the  disgraceful  escapades  of 
his  wayward  son — over  his  head  had  bequeathed  to  the 
little  grandson  a  snug  fortune,  with  Mr.  George 
Nichols  as  custodian.  Liberal  allowance  from  it  had 
been  made  for  maintenance  and  education  while  the 
child  was  growing  up;  but  that  no  idle  or  vicious 
habits  be  engendered  by  easy  money  too  young,  also 
to  prevent  the  father's  wheedling  it  away  from  him  in 
part  or  whole  during  early  manhood  should  he  ever 
come  under  his  influence,  Gerald  was  not  to  have  con 
trol  until  he  should  have  reached  the  age  of  thirty. 
A  wise  precaution,  but  one  which  proved  to  have  been 
needless  as  far  as  the  elder  was  concerned,  as  the 
wasted,  worthless  life  went  out  in  an  orgy  of  dissipa 
tion  a  very  few  years  later,  bringing  relief,  if  not 
positive  joy  to  the  entire  family. 

As  a  baby,  Gerald  Harding  would  assuredly  have 
taken  the  prize  at  any  show;  for  he  was  one  of  those 
cherubic,  curly-headed  little  darlings,  with  big,  won 
dering  brown  eyes,  dimpled  chin  and  the  rosiest  of 


240  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

cheeks,  whom  strangers  invariably  stopped  to  look  at 
and  admire.  Friends,  who  knew,  called  him  the  min 
iature  of  his  father,  in  one  breath,  and  regretted  the 
resemblance  in  the  next;  for,  said  they,  he'll  probably 
grow  up  the  same  perfect  Adonis,  and  Fred  Harding's 
good  looks  have  been  his  ruination;  that,  and  having 
a  father  who  was  too  good  a  thing. 

But  the  child  had  not  only  inherited  the  personal 
characteristics  of  his  progenitor;  his  intensely  selfish 
nature,  as  well,  had  entered  into  his  unfortunate  off 
spring  ;  and  selfishness  we  hold  to  be  the  root  of  every 
undesirable  and  evil  inclination  in  mankind.  As  one 
has  aptly  put  it,  'If  self  the  wavering  balance  shake, 
'tis  seldom  well  adjusted/  This  undesirable  trait, 
moreover,  the  child's  unusual  rearing  had  fostered ; 
for  he  had  been  brought  up  by  a  mother — whose 
lonely,  sorrowing  heart  had  been  most  inordinately 
wrapped  up  in  her  child — doting  grand-parents,  and 
proudly  indulgent  uncles  and  aunts  galore ;  and  being 
a  lusty-lunged,  persistent  little  tyrant,  full  also  of 
subtly  cunning,  coaxing  ways,  whatever  he  might  have 
set  his  heart  upon  getting  he  was  sure  to  get.  'Too 
many  cooks  will  spoil  the  broth,'  and  Gerald  had  been 
spoiled;  lamentably  spoiled.  We  say  lamentably — 
pardon  the  iteration — for  it  is  always  a  calamity  when 
a  child  has  been  spoiled.  In  view  of  all  this,  even  in 
one  much  more  promisingly  sired  than  he  had  been, 
the  weeds  and  tares  might  very  easily  have  choked  out 
the  good  seed.  The  worthy  intentions  of  his  aunt  and 


GERALD  HARDING  241 

uncle  to  lead  the  child  into  better  ways  when  they 
assumed  control,  had  been  about  as  discouragingly 
unsuccessful  as  laudable.  'One  cannot  gather  grapes 
of  thorns,  or  figs  of  thistles' ;  and  this  twig,  sprung 
from  predominatingly  bad  seed,  had,  in  addition,  been 
bent  in  an  adverse  direction  for  so  long  a  time,  that 
the  tree  was  most  unfavorably  inclined. 

Now,  boys  are  like  vinegar,  they  say;  the  more 
mother  there  is  in  them  the  better  they  are.  Admitting 
that  there  are  exceptions  to  all  rules,  Gerald's  case 
was  emphatically  no  exception  to  this  one;  had  there 
been  more  of  Bertha  Adams  and  less  of  Frederick 
Harding  in  his  composition,  our  accounts  of  him  would 
unquestionably  have  been  much  more  creditable  and 
pleasurable  ones  to  chronicle.  The  coachman's  de 
scription  of  the  lad  at  the  age  of  twelve,  presents  us 
with  a  true  though  very  uncomplimentary  portrait  of 
him  at  that  time.  Complaining  of  his  annoying  con 
duct  to  Mr.  Nichols  one  day,  when  thoroughly  out  of 
patience  with  his  troublesome  pranks,  he  had  ended 
thus:  "Beggin'  yer  pardon,  Sor,  'taint  no  use  yer 
tryin'  ter  make  honything  o'  that  ther  kid,  h'im  afeered ; 
Vs  likely  enough,  Sor,  but  'e's  jist  nat'ally  too 
bloomin'  bad" 

It  was  true  as  the  man  had  said;  Gerald  was 
'likely',  and  fortunately  so;  for  in  spite  of  lack  of 
application,  his  education  had  progressed  not  unfavor 
ably,  owing  to  his  bright  mind,  readiness  to  acquire 
knowledge,  and  the  possession  of  a  most  excellent 


242  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

memory.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  he  must  have  grown 
up  an  ignoramus  indeed ;  for  discipline  was  so  ob 
noxious  to  him,  that  his  school  life — to  college  he 
would  not  go — had  been  a  succession  of  deserved 
suspensions  and  expulsions. 

But  though  the  boy  was  selfish,  he  was  not  stingy; 
a  surplus  of  anything  beyond  his  own  wants,  be  it 
what  it  may,  he  would  scatter  with  a  lavish  hand; 
and  generally  having  abundance  and  to  spare,  thus 
gained  quite  an  enviable  reputation  for  generosity. 
Possessing  no  real  depth  of  character,  he  was  always 
ready  for  mischievous  fun,  in  season  and  out,  and 
growing  to  youth  and  young  manhood  'a  jolly  good 
fellow,'  made  many  acquaintances,  but  governed  by 
the  assumption  that  these  were  valueless  unless  usable, 
formed  no  warm  or  lasting  friendships. 

According  to  early  promise,  the  child  developed  into 
an  exceptionally  handsome  man,  both  as  to  form  and 
face ;  and  to  the  end  of  his  days,  never  lost  that  child 
like  innocence  of  the  eye,  which  might  have  deceived 
even  the  Devil,  himself.  He  had  all  the  natural  grace 
of  manner  of  a  Chesterfield,  and  the  perfect  taste  of 
a  Brummel  in  dress;  sang  well,  danced  distractingly, 
and  being  well  connected  and  with  time  and  some 
money  to  spend,  was  a  favorite  with  the  girls;  many 
of  whom  fawned  upon  and  flattered  him,  and  thus  con 
tributed  successfully  to  the  further  spoiling  of  him. 

Like  his  unworthy  sire,  utterly  selfish  and  lacking 
absolutely  in  sincerity  or  stability,  he  became  one  of 


GERALD  HARDING  243 

that  detestable  species,  the  male  flirt.  His  burning, 
compelling  love-making — of  which  the  reader  shall 
later  judge — would  melt  a  heart  of  ice;  but  the 
pleasure  of  the  game  ended  for  him  with  conquest; 
and  he  would  at  once  begin  to  lay  about  for  some  way 
of  being  'off  with  the  old  love',  that  he  might  be  'on 
with  the  new' ;  so  that,  shy  of  twenty-five  when  we 
first  meet  him,  he  had  already  been  the  hero  (?)  of 
several  love  affairs ;  once  even  being  threatened  with 
suit  for  breach  of  promise. 

As  far  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  love  anybody 
but  himself,  however,  Gerald  Harding  certainly  did 
love  his  Aunt  Alice;  that  seemed  his  one  redeeming 
trait.  And  well  he  might ;  for  truly  she  had  loved  him 
with  a  mother's  love.  Her  patience  with  the  trying 
boy,  her  devotion  to  him,  her  encouraging  pride  in  his 
ability  and  achievements,  her  sorrow  over  his  mis 
deeds,  were  beautiful  and  remarkable.  And  waves  of 
grateful  recognition  of  her  goodness  to  him  would 
seem  to  sweep  over  the  youth  periodically,  apparently 
bringing  with  them  the  desire  and  determination  to  be 
more  worthy  of  it  all;  when  for  a  little,  his  con 
duct  would  be  all  that  the  most  exacting  could  wish; 
and  telling  of  the  latent  possibilities  for  good  within 
him,  would  make  one  but  the  sadder  to  see  these  so 
held  in  thrall  by  the  selfish  weakness  of  his  nature. 

As  to  mental  bent,  Gerald  was  an  artist;  another 
inheritance  from  the  father,  whose  profession  it  had 
been,  and  in  which  his  unusual  ability  could  have  ele- 


244  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

vated  the  man  to  the  highest  ranks,  had  he  but  willed. 
From  the  time  the  little  fingers  could  hold  and  manip 
ulate  a  pencil  or  bit  of  chalk,  Gerald  could  draw ;  and 
his  caricatures  had  attracted  notice  from  his  early 
childhood;  in  fact,  the  making  his  teachers  or  pro 
fessors  the  subjects  of  them  had  constantly  brought 
him  into  disrepute  at  school.  An  artist  then  the  youth 
decided  to  be,  and  seemed  fortunately  so  in  love  with 
his  chosen  calling  as  to  become  imbued  with  a  deep 
ambition  to  excel  in  it;  so  that,  when  he  had  given 
to  his  art  studies  willing,  patient  and  industrious  at 
tention,  his  relatives  were  encouraged  to  hope  that  a 
career  worthy  of  his  extraordinary  talent  was  yet 
possible ;  that  the  nobler  attributes  of  his  nature  were 
about  to  assert  themselves  and  make  a  real  man  of 
him  after  all.  He  studied  for  a  time  at  home,  later  at 
Boston,  and  for  a  year  before  our  introduction  to  him 
had  been  under  the  very  best  Parisian  instruction. 

In  the  care  of  their  foster-child,  Mr.  Nichols  had 
been  no  less  zealous  and  tender  in  the  performance  of 
duty  than  his  wife;  and  after  the  long  and  wearing 
guardianship  of  Gerald,  that  of  Alice  seemed  to  come 
to  them  more  as  a  direct  reward  for  patient,  faithful 
service,  than  as  a  charge.  Their  fondness  for  the  win 
some  child  had  always  been  inordinate;  Mrs.  Nichols, 
beside  affection,  feeling  a  sort  of  proprietary  interest 
in  her  little  namesake ;  and  the  uncle,  because  that  she 
was  Clayton's  child ;  to  whom,  the  reader  will  remem 
ber,  Mr.  Nichols  had  been  not  only  a  loving  elder 


GERALD  HARDING  245 

brother,  but  a  devoted  father  as  well.  What  with 
their  love,  then,  extravagant  fondness  and  sympathetic 
longing  and  endeavors  to  compensate  as  far  as  possible 
for  her  cruel  loss,  the  girl's  environment  was  cer 
tainly  an  ideal  one  for  the  spoiling  of  any  ordinary 
disposition. 

But,  as  we  have  seen,  Alice  Nichols  was  endowed  in 
equal  measure  with  that  same  beautiful  nature  in  which 
forgetfulness  of  self,  and  gratitude,  predominate, 
which  had  made  of  her  charming  mother  an  object  of 
such  universal  love,  and  which  made  it  an  impossibility 
for  the  girl  to  become  in  the  smallest  degree,  selfish  or 
thoughtless  of  others.  Even  in  the  early  freshness  of 
her  overpowering  grief,  thankful  appreciation  of  their 
efforts  to  interest  and  cheer  her  would  hold  in  check 
the  almost  uncontrollable  outbursts  of  grief  in  presence 
of  the  family,  and  she  would  wait,  with  truly  pathetic 
fortitude,  to  sob  out  her  heartaches  in  the  seclusion  of 
her  own  room,  upon  the  bosom  of  loving  and  dearly 
loved  Mam'selle. 

But  'when  the  stream  which  overflowed  the  soul  had 
passed  away,  leaving  upon  the  silent  shores  of  memory 
images  and  precious  thoughts  which  should  not  die 
and  could  not  be  destroyed/  Alice,  becoming  engrossed 
in  the  duties  and  associations  of  her  new  life  and  sur 
roundings,  found  in  them  a  healing  balm,  and  life  once 
more  held  happiness  for  her,  as  was  right.  For  as  the 
tender,  flexible  sapling,  bowing  and  bending  to  earth 
beneath  the  storm,  springs  quickly  back  and  again  lifts 


246  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

its  undaunted  head  when,  the  fury  of  the  tempest  has 
been  spent,  so  a  beneficent  Creator  has  also  wisely  and 
lovingly  implanted  in  the  youthful  human  heart,  so 
much  of  elasticity  and  adaptiveness,  that  the  crushing 
weights  of  affliction  and  sorrow  do  but  bend,  not 
break  it. 

Returning  the  tender  love  of  both  her  guardians 
with  a  deep  and  grateful  affection,  towards  her  uncle 
this  soon  developed  into  a  positive  passion ;  the  wealth 
of  love  which  she  had  borne  her  deceased  father  seem 
ing  to  be  transferred  to  him ;  and  had  the  need  arose, 
we  doubt  not  the  girl  would  cheerfully  have  given  her 
life  for  his. 

Thus,  uneventfully,  the  years  slipped  by;  not  the 
least  happy  weeks  of  which — we  have  the  girl's  own 
assurance  for — were  those  passed  each  Summer  at  the 
Lake;  enjoying  the  prized  companionship  of  'Dear 
Mamma  Manning'  and  'Dear  Rob';  as  the  weekly 
letters  to  her  old  friends  and  ours  were  unvaryingly 
headed;  beside  also  the  delightful  Winter  holiday 
seasons  of  their  separation  which  they  had  always 
spent  together;  some  in  Denver  and  some  in  Chicago. 


CHAPTER  III. 

YOUTHFUL  LOVERS. 

"  'Why  we've  always  loved  each  other.  At 
least,  I  have  you;  and  you  have  me,  too;  haven't 
you,  sweetheart'?" 

Now  although  it  seems  but  yesterday  since  these  two 
dear  children,  fresh  from  the  hand  of  God,  slipped 
through  the  heavenly  portals  and  made  their  advent 
into  this  troublous  world,  yet  the  swiftly  passing  years 
have  followed  each  other  in  such  rapid  succession  that 
youth  is  already  upon  them — 

That  blest  Springtime  of  life — so  brief- 
When  pulses  maddening  thrill ; 

When  song  and  mirth  and  spendthrift  love, 
The  heart's  deep  chambers  fill. 

Today  we  have  them  before  us,  the  one  a  nearly  six- 
foot,  manly-hearted  chap,  just  past  eighteen ;  the  other 
a  slender,  graceful  girl,  but  a  few  months  his  junior; 
and  we  exclaim  involuntarily,  How  short  is  life!  how 
fleeting  time ! 

We  see  them  now  standing  upon  the  threshold  of 
maturer  years,  and  extravagantly  happy  in  the  con 
sciousness  of  being  all  in  all  to  each  other.  'Premature 


248  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

at  such  an  age/  do  you  say?  Well,  for  that  matter, 
reader,  in  ordinary  cases,  we,  too,  hold  to  the  same 
conservative  opinion  as  your  own  upon  this  weighty 
subject.  But  kindly  bear  in  mind  that  theirs  was 
not  exactly  an  ordinary  case.  True,  this  is  but  the 
record  of  two  commonplace  lives ;  yet  we  have  learned 
that  these  lives  were  not  projected  into  being  under 
altogether  commonplace  influences,  while  some,  at 
least,  of  the  happenings  in  them,  had  also  been 
considerably  out  of  the  ordinary;  and  'circumstances 
alter  cases/ 

The  early  sentimental  revelation  had  come  about 
very  simply  and  unexpectedly.  They  were  in  the  midst 
of  one  of  their  delightful  Summers  together  at  the 
Lake,  and  upon  one  particular  day  had  been  enjoying 
a  short  after-luncheon  loll  in  the  hammocks  upon  the 
lawn  at  the  Nichols'  place,  when  who  should  come  can 
tering  gaily  up  the  graveled  walk,  unannounced,  but 
Gerald  Harding,  who  had  been  absent  from  home  for 
several  years,  and  was  by  now  settled  into  a  very 
sedate  looking  fellow  of  twenty-seven. 

"Why,  my  dear  boy!  what  brought  you  here!"  ex 
claimed  his  aunt,  with  surprised  delight;  jumping 
hastily  up  and  rushing  forward  with  beaming  face  and 
outstretched  arms,  to  welcome  her  handsome  nephew 
and  foster-child. 

"Oh,  the  usual  means  of  transportation  in  such 
cases,  Auntie;  steamer,  cars  and  pony,"  promptly  re 
plied  the  newcomer;  vaulting  lightly  to  the  ground 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  249 

while  he  spoke,  and  returning  his  aunt's  affectionate 
greeting  with  equal  fervor. 

"There,  there,  you  naughty  boy !"  said  Mrs.  Nichols, 
laughingly,  "you  know  what  I  mean ;  what  was  the 
cause,  the  raison  d'etre  of  your  coming  over  at  this 
particular  time"? 

"Well,  'if  the  mountain  won't  go  to  Mahomet,  Ma 
homet  must  go  to  the  mountain,'  you  know,  Auntie. 
When  you  disappointed  me  about  coming  over  this 
Summer,  I  got  so  utterly  homesick  to  see  you — honor 
bright  I  did,  Auntie,"  he  vowed,  in  protest  of  her  skep 
tically  surprised  look — "that  my  friends,  all  noticing 
how  thin  I  was  getting,  though  without  knowing  the 
cause,  recommended  a  rest  and  change ;  which  advice 
I  decided  was  good  enough  to  follow;  so  here  I  am. 
Say  I  don't  love  you  now?  Glad  to  see  me,  Auntie?" 
he  finished,  effusively  kissing  the  woman  a  second  time. 

"Am  I  glad?  Why,  my  dear  boy,  I'm  simply 
delighted;  this  is  the  happiest  surprise  I've  had  for 
many  a  long  day,"  replied  Mrs.  Nichols,  with  a  warm 
pressure  of  the  shapely  hands,  that  she  found  sincere 
pleasure  in  holding  once  again.  "Your  Uncle  George 
will  be  glad  to  see  you,  too;  he  brought  me  home  a 
very  gratifying  report  of  you  last  year.  Alice !  Rob !" 
she  called,  excitedly,  "here's  Gerald!"  for  they  were, 
of  course,  all  acquainted. 

"But  how  is  my  good  Uncle?"  asked  the  young  man, 
with  a  show  of  deep  interest,  as  he  shook  hands  with 
the  others — gently  detaining  that  of  the  girl,  as  if  un- 


250  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

consciously — "I  trust  he's  fully  recovered  from  his  in 
disposition  of  a  few  months  back.  And  why  didn't 
you  come  over  this  Summer  as  you  promised,  Auntie, 
and  bring  my  charming  cousin"?  he  added.  And  as  he 
spoke,  a  look  of  the  most  undisguised  and  flattering 
admiration  was  fixed  upon  the  blushing  girl,  ere  he  re 
leased  her  hand ;  even  then  doing  this  with  evident  re 
luctance. 

"Your  Uncle  is  improving  some  all  the  time  now,  I 
think,  Gerald,  although  yet  far  from  his  former  self; 
his  condition  was  really  critical  for  a  good  while,  and 
a  European  trip  was  not  to  be  thought  of  in  his  state. 
But  don't  say  'promised',  my  dear  boy,"  corrected  his 
aunt;  "I'm  sure  we  didn't  do  that.  1  believe  I  did 
write  early  in  the  year  that  we  would  like  to  come,  and 
might;  but— 

"But  what?"  queried  the  other,  as  her  remarks  came 
to  an  abrupt  ending. 

"Well,  candidly,"  replied  Mrs.  Nichols,  "we  found 
that  our  dear  little  girl  here" — tenderly  drawing  Alice 
to  her  side  as  she  spoke — "had  her  heart  so  set  upon 
coming  West,  as  usual,  that  we  couldn't  think  of  dis 
appointing  her.  This  is  a  very  precious  spot  to  Alice, 
you  know,  Gerald,"  she  concluded,  with  feeling. 

"O,  Auntie  dear" !  broke  in  the  young  girl,  depre- 
catingly,  "you  shouldn't  have  deprived  yourselves  of 
the  pleasure  of  a  visit  to  Gerald  on  my  account;  I 
wouldn't  have  had  it  so  for  anything,  if  I  had  known" ; 
at  the  same  time  kissing  her  aunt  in  loving  appreciation 
of  the  unselfish  act. 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  251 

"We  were  well  aware  of  that,  dearie;  so,  if  you  re 
member,  we  never  referred  to  the  subject  a  second 
time.  But  it's  just  as  well  now,  you  see;  for  Gerald's 
coming  over  has  shown  me  that  there's  a  very  warm 
place  in  his  heart,  yet^  for  his  auntie,  and  such  knowl 
edge  of  course  makes  me  exceedingly  happy.  We'll 
go  over  next  year,  after  you're  through  school ;  we 
can  stay  longer  then,  too. 

"But  you  must  be  very  tired,  my  dear  boy,  and  even 
more  hungry,  perhaps,"  continued  their  aunt,  turning 
again  to  her  nephew.  "Let's  to  the  house  and  see  what 
cook  has  in  the  larder"; — as  she  slipped  her  arm  lov 
ingly  in  his — "Rob  will  be  pleased  to  hand  your  horse 
over  to  John  for  you,  I  know." 

Now  some  people  in  this  world  seem  especially  born 
to  trouble,  others  to  make  trouble ;  and  Gerald  Harding 
belonged  unmistakably  in  the  latter  category.  His 
nature  had  not  in  any  way  improved ;  years  had  but 
taught  him  the  advisability  and  wisdom  of  concealing 
his  glaring  selfishness  under  varying  cloaks ;  yet  it  was 
still  Gerald  Harding,  first,  last,  and  always,  with  him, 
as  of  yore.  His  unexpected  visit  home  at  this  time 
was  not  precipitated  by  that  unquenchable  longing  to 
see  his  foster-mother — of  which  he  had  so  unblush- 
ingly  told,  and  which  the  fond,  deceived  soul  took  such 
delight  in  believing — but  simply  and  solely  for  the  pur 
pose  of  meeting  and  studying  the  now  charming  niece 
— naturally  a  frequent  subject  of  remark  in  the  letters 
from  his  aunt — who,  when  he  had  last  seen  her,  was  a 


252  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

sweet  and  pretty,  though  somewhat  angular  and  ex 
tremely  bashful  girl  of  fifteen.  For  Gerald,  like  the 
average  man,  had  now  arrived  at  an  age  when  he  felt 
disposed  to  look  about  him  for  a  wife.  Alice,  so  he 
had  learned,  was  beautiful,  accomplished,  had  money, 
and  beside  a  host  of  other  desirable  attributes,  was 
possessed  of  an  angelic  disposition ;  'which  latter' — the 
man  was  sufficiently  honest  to  confide  to  himself — 'the 
wife  of  Gerald  Harding  will  most  certainly  need.' 

To  Alice  then  his  fancy  turned,  notwithstanding  his 
full  cognizance  of  the  fact  that  by  their  relatives,  at 
least,  she  and  Robert  Manning  had  always  been  in 
tended  for  each  other;  and  once  his  mind  was  made 
up  and  bent  upon  the  acquisition  of  any  particular 
thing,  Gerald  became  impatient  of  delay,  as  well  as 
most  persistent  in  the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose. 
Disappointed,  as  we  have  learned,  as  to  their  aunt 
and  'Cousin  Alice' — as  he  now  proceeded  for  the  first 
time  to  familiarly  call  her — coming  to  Paris,  he  had 
decided  to  cross  the  pond  himself;  and  finding  the 
amiable  young  girl  decidedly  to  his  liking,  was  by  no 
means  backward  in  his  attentions,  making  but  little 
pretense  of  seeking  the  society  of  the  young  ladies  of 
the  camp,  but  devoting  himself  most  assiduously  and 
conspicuously  to  her. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  at  this  time,  Alice  Nichols 
was  yet  a 'schoolgirl;  not  in  society.  Robert  Manning 
being  virtually  the  only  member  of  the  opposite  sex 
from  whom  she  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving  any  gal- 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  253 

lant  attentions,  he  had  therefore  enjoyed  a  monopoly 
of  her  company;  and  until  Gerald,  with  his  open  ad 
miration  and  devoirs  appeared  upon  the  scene,  the 
youth's  tranquility  and  peace  of  mind  had  been  un 
disturbed  as  to  thoughts  of  rivals.  In  fact  it  was  a 
subject  about  which  there  had  seemed  no  need  or 
room  for  thought.  To  his  mind,  Alice  was  simply 
his;  always  had  been,  always  would  be;  just  as  he 
was  hers.  But  when  a  realization  of  the  dread  possi 
bility  of  another  aspiring  to  and  perchance  winning 
her  love,  was  borne  in  upon  his  mind  and  heart,  its 
sickening  presence  brought  with  it  also  immediate 
alarm ;  for  the  lad  then  fully  understood  how  unspeak 
ably  precious  that  love  was  to  him,  how  absolutely 
necessary  to  his  life's  happiness. 

Now  as  we  have  already  seen  him  pictured,  Gerald 
Harding  was  an  unusually  handsome  fellow;  he  was 
beside,  full  of  that  pleasing,  indolent  grace  of  manner 
which  marks  the  well-bred  man — also  the  treacherous 
cat.  He  had  been  about,  seen  considerable  of  the 
world,  had  a  bright  mind,  and  that  happy  faculty  of 
the  good  conversationalist,  the  knack  of  imparting  in 
formation  in  an  easy,  engrossing,  entertaining  way. 
He  of  course  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  now  to 
please,  was  unselfishness,  gentleness  and  kindness 
personified ,  not  only  with  the  girl  but  with  all.  Mrs. 
Nichols  was  charmed  with  the  change  and  improve 
ment  in  his  ways;  Alice,  like  any  girl  of  her  age 
under  such  influence,  was  in  a  way,  fascinated.  Had 


254  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

their  aunt  have  detected  any  indication  of  her  im 
pressionable  young  heart  succumbing  to  what  she 
understood  to  be,  at  least,  a  superficial  attack  upon  it, 
she  would  have  felt  concern  at  once,  notwithstanding 
her  nephew's  seeming  reformation;  for  she  was  so 
truly  fond  of  her  lovely  niece  as  to  be  extremely 
solicitous  for  her  welfare. 

Robert  need  have  felt  no  uneasiness,  however,  for 
never  for  a  moment  was  the  heart  of  Alice  Nichols 
drawn  in  the  slightest  degree  towards  Gerald  Harding. 
But  Robert  was  uneasy,  though,  for  a  time,  battling 
right  manfully — for  one  of  his  age — against  his  jealous 
fears,  he  strove  to  ignore  the  'unheard-of  presump 
tion  of  his  rival' — as  he  indignantly  classed  both  it, 
and  him — and  bravely  endeavored  to  offset  any  pos 
sibly  disastrous  consequences  of  the  other's  studied 
attentions  to  the  girl,  by  a  greater,  counter  devotion. 
The  honest,  callow  youth,  however,  was  no  match  in 
love  affairs  for  this  heartless,  experienced  man  of  the 
world;  whose  whetted  appetite,  moreover,  was  but 
spurred  on  to  greater  activity  by  the  instantly  recog 
nized  fact  of  opposition. 

When  Robert,  at  last,  could  no  longer  ignore,  he 
fretted  and  fumed  and  sulked  by  turns,  in  genuinely 
childish  fashion ;  a  little  of  this,  and  he  was  prepared 
to  distrust  the  girl,  even;  almost  succeeding  in  con 
vincing  himself  that  she  had  ceased  to  care  for  him, 
and  life,  in  that  event,  he  decided,  was  no  longer 
worth  the  living.  'If  Alice  should  see  his  dead  body 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  255 

floating  upon  the  surface  of  the  lake' — he  would  muse, 
tragically,  as  he  paced  its  banks  in  moody  solitariness, 
while  the  object  of  his  gloomy  soliloquy  was  perhaps 
off  for  a  stroll  at  the  urgent  invitation  of  their  guest — 
'she  would  perhaps  realize  what  she  had  driven  him  to, 
and  be  sorry.  But  then  there  was  Mamma,  and  he 
couldn't  think  of  that.  No,  he  must  bear  it  like  a 
man;  Alice  was  trifling  with  his  affections  though, 
and  he  would  put  a  stop  to  that;  she  must  choose 
between  them/ 

So  the  unsuspecting  girl  was  accordingly  invited 
to  take  an  early  morning  ride;  at  that  most  glorious 
hour  in  the  mountains,  which  Gerald,  both  from  nat 
ural  inclination  and  a  foreign-imbibed  custom,  always 
idled  away  in  sleep. 

'Morn  amid  the  mountains !  lovely  Solitude !' 

when  more  than  at  any  other  hour  of  the  day,  the 
eternal,  immovable  hills,  the  trickling  cascades,  the 
tumbling  waterfalls,  the  gushing  streams,  the  gentle 
zephyrs  whispering  so  mysteriously  together  among 
the  tree-tops,  the  chirping  birds,  the  whirring  insects, 
all  seem  prating  of  constancy  and  love;  conspiring 
together  to  draw  the  soul  of  the  thoughtful  beholder 
'through  Nature,  up  to  Nature's  God' ;  the  Great 
Heart  of  love. 

Verily,  the  time  seemed  a  peculiarly  sweet,  well 
chosen,  and  even  typical  one,  in  which  for  these  two 
dear  young  creatures,  just  at  the  dawn  of  a  new  epoch, 
to  allow  the  well-rooted  germ  of  love  within  them  to 


256  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

burst  forth  into  palpitating  life,  and  flood  each  other's 
hearts  with  its  enlightening  and  vivifying  radiance, 
stirring  their  unexplored  depths  to  new  and  rapturous 
activity;  as  the  glad  Sun,  breaking,  wakes  even  the 
deepest  vales  to  the  light  and  joy  of  a  new  day. 

Twas  an  ideal  setting,  and  O !  what  a  pretty  picture 
they  made  for  it,  as  they  went  loping  along  together 
side  by  side,  so  evenly  and  gracefully — they  had  been 
broken  to  the  saddle  when  mere  babies,  if  we  may  so 
express  it — drinking  in  the  fragrance  and  exhilarating 
freshness  of  the  early  morning;  the  almost  infantile 
fairness  of  the  girl — she  was  a  counterpart  of  her 
dainty  mother — brought  out  so  strikingly  by  the  black 
broadcloth  habit  that  she  wore,  and  by  contrast  with 
the  dark  complexion  of  her  manly  escort.  Their 
happy,  innocent  faces — happy  because  innocent — re 
flecting  in  them  all  the  joyousness  and  beauty  of  the 
scene  about. 

They  were  in  an  atmosphere  of  trust  and  gladness; 
and  laughing  and  chatting  gaily  as  they  rode  along, 
Robert's  jealous  fears  and  doubts  were  lulled  to  rest, 
by  the  magic  influence  of  the  time  and  place  and  prized 
companionship,  and  his  unpleasant  errand  clean  for 
gotten  ;  until  Alice,  slowing  down,  remarked  inno 
cently,  "We  mustn't  go  too  far,  Rob,  for  Cousin 
Gerald  wants  to  make  a  sketch  of  me  this  morning; 
he's  taking  one  of  each  of  us  back  with  him,  you 
know,  to  grace  his  apartments ;  so  he  flatteringly  tells 
us,"  she  finished,  with  a  light  laugh. 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  257 

Click!  Her  words  had  fallen  like  the  sharp  snapping 
of  the  hammer  upon  the  cap ;  igniting  the  powder,  ex 
ploding  the  charge,  and  until  the  smoke  had  cleared 
away,  projecting  a  disfiguring  blur  upon  the  tranquil 
beauty  of  the  morning. 

"Cousin  Gerald,  indeed!"  repeated  her  companion, 
scornfully;  an  angry  frown  instantly  darkening  his 
hitherto  smiling  face.  "Why,  he's  no  relation  of  yours, 
Alice,  and  I  wouldn't  be  so  familiar  if  I  was  in  your 
place!"  And  with  a  determined,  almost  vicious  jerk, 
the  youth  brought  his  horse  to  a  standstill  as  he  spoke ; 
the  girl,  along-side,  instantly  drawing  rein  also. 

She  was  thunder-struck.  Reproofs  of  any  sort  she 
was  not  accustomed  to  from  any  one — she  neither 
needed  nor  deserved  them — but  to  receive  one  from 
Robert,  this  was  a  blow  indeed.  It  was  not  that  he 
had  said  so  much,  as  the  bitter  way  in  which  he  had 
said  it.  Hot  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  but  she  forced 
them  back,  and  said,  quietly,  though  with  unconcealed 
surprise,  "Why,  Rob;  what  makes  you  speak  like  that? 
Of  course  I  know  that  Gerald's  no  relation  of  mine, 
but  he  is  of  Aunt  Alice,  and  it  seems  so  all  in  the 
family,  sort  of,  that  I  don't  see  where  the  harm  is  in 
my  calling  him  cousin." 

"No  particular  harm,  perhaps,  Alice,"  returned  the 
youth,  loftily;  "but  it  sounds  very  silly  to  my  way  of 
thinking,  and  is  decidedly  out  of  place  and  unbecoming 
as  well." 

"But  he  called  me  Cousin  Alice,  first,  you  know, 


258  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Rob,  and  wants  me  to  call  him  Cousin  Gerald ;  so  why 
shouldn't  I"  ?  persisted  the  girl,  gently. 

"O,  very  well,  Alice ;  if  his  opinions  and  wishes  are 
of  more  consequence  to  you  than  mine,  why  I've  noth 
ing  more  to  say,"  replied  the  jealous  youth,  with  a 
great  show  of  offended  dignity.  Then,  with  a  quick 
assumption  of  pretended  indifference,  added,  "If  you 
care  more  for  him  than  you  do  for  me,  why  I'd  like 
to  know  it ;  that's  all ;  it's  one  and  the  same  to  m — 
No!  No!  Alice!  No!  No!  I  don't  mean  that!"  he 
protested  frantically,  as  a  smothered  sob  smote  upon 
his  ear ;  turning  also  like  a  flash  at  the  same  time,  and 
flinging  his  arm  about  the  girl — he  had  been  obliged 
to  keep  his  face  averted  from  her  as  he  uttered  the 
cruel  words,  which,  in  his  heart,  he  felt  to  be  suicidal — 
"I  mean  that  it  would  kill  me !  that's  what  I  mean ! 
O,  Alice,  believe  me,  and  please  forgive  me  for  hurting 
you  so !"  he  finished,  penitently. 

"Of  course  I  forgive  you,  Rob,"  returned  the  sweet 
girl,  heartily;  now  smiling  through  her  tears.  "But  it 
seems  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world  to  me  that  you 
should  take  exception  to  such  a  simple  thing  as  Gerald 
and  I  calling  each  other  cousin." 

"Perhaps  I  had  no  real  right,  to  Alice,  but — 

"O,  I  didn't  mean  upon  that  account,  Rob!"  inter 
rupted  the  other,  "but  because  it  seems  a  thing  of 
absolutely  no  importance  whatever  to  me.  It  don't 
mean  anything,  you  know." 

"Pardon  my  contradicting,  Alice,  but  it  does  mean 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  259 

something,  and  a  good  big  something,  too;  at  least, 
as  far  as  Gerald's  concerned.  It  means  that  he's  dead 
in  love  with  you,  Alice;  that's  just  what  it  means! 
Anybody  blind  in  one  eye  and  with  no  use  of  the  other, 
could  see  that!" 

"Nonsense,  Rob!  I'm  only  a  child  to  Gerald;  why 
he's  twenty-seven!" 

"I  know  he  is,  Alice;  therefore  he  should  devote 
himself  to  the  young  ladies  of  the  place  who  are  nearer 
his  own  age,"  the  youth  replied,  with  much  spirit. 
"There's  any  number  of  them  here,  and  most  of  them 
would  be  only  too  willing,  judging  from  the  ridiculous 
way  they  tag  around  after  him.  But  no;  he  must 
monopolize  you,"  he  continued  gloomily.  "Why,  I 
haven't  seen  anything  of  you  at  all,  hardly,  since  he 
came,  Alice." 

"Why,  Rob,  you've  seen  me  every  day,"  corrected 
the  girl,  smiling.  "Of  course,  I've  had  to  divide  my 
company  between  you  more  or  less,  for  he's  our  guest, 
you  know,  and  naturally,  I'm  expected  to  do  my  share 
towards  entertaining  him.  Common  politeness,  Rob, 
would  forbid  my  refusing  to  ride  or  drive  or  row  or 
walk  with  him  when  asked  to  do  so;  especially  when 
there's  no  other  young  person  in  the  house.  But  I'm 
quite  sure  you're  mistaken  as  to  his  sentiments  towards 
me ;  and  really,  Rob,  I  didn't  think  you  could  be  so  un 
generous.  Why,  you  heard  him  tell  Aunt  Alice, 
distinctly,  that  he  came  over  because  he  was  so  home 
sick  to  see  her;  and  I  think  that  was  just  perfectly 


260  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

lovely  of  him.  She  brought  him  up,  you  know;  and 
I'm  sure  he's  disappointed,  too,  at  not  being  able  to 
see  more  of  her  than  he  does;  but  you  know  how 
absolutely  devoted  she  is  to  poor  Uncle  George,  and  it 
seems  to  make  him  so  nervous  and  irritable  somehow 
— altogether  unlike  himself — to  have  Gerald  with  them 
very  much,  that  he's  obliged  to  spend  more  of  his  time 
with  me,  you  see." 

"Which  is  evidently  no  great  hardship  for  him," 
sniffed  her  companion,  promptly.  "I  don't  want  to  be 
ungenerous,  as  you  call  it,  Alice,  but  just  the  same,  I 
can't  believe  all  I  hear  when  it  comes  from  Gerald 
Harding" ;  with  a  doubting  nod.  "I  admit,  I  don't 
really  know  anything  against  him,  but  there's  some 
thing  about  him  that  I  don't  like;  I  feel  suspicious  of 
him  all  the  time,  and  I'd  rather  see  you  dead  than 
married  to  him.  It  won't  be  his  fault  though  if  you're 
not,  some  day,'  persisted  the  youth,  "for  I  knoiv  he's  in 
love  with  you." 

"Well,  then  you  certainly  know  a  whole  lot  more 
than  I  do  about  it,  Rob,  for  Gerald's  never  told  me 
so;  he  always  talks  to  me  on  such  nice,  interesting 
subjects. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  a  'nice,  interesting'  subject  if  he 
talked  to  you  of  love,  Alice?"  queried  her  companion 
eagerly;  and  with  an  utterly  incredulous  air  which 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  conceal. 

"No,  it  would  not"  replied  the  girl,  decidedly.  "I 
should  become  ennuye  at  once." 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  261 

"Then  you  think  love  an  uninteresting  subject, 
Alice?"  he  returned. 

"I  didn't  say  so,  Rob." 

"But  you  just  said  that  you  would  become  wearied, 
at  once,  if  Gerald  talked  to  you  on  it." 

"Which  wasn't  necessarily  to  say  that  the  subject 
itself  would  be  an  uninteresting  one,  Rob;  was  it?"  re 
turned  the  girl,  shyly.  And  then,  quickly  lowering  her 
eyes  from  his,  she  fixed  her  gaze,  with  apparently  a 
most  intense  absorption,  upon  the  meanderings  of  a  fly 
that  crawled  lazily  up  and  down  her  horse's  nose. 

"Would  it  be  an  uninteresting  subject  if  I  talked  to 
you  on  it,  Alice"?  asked  Robert,  at  this;  softly,  and 
with  a  bit  of  hesitation,  although  once  more  placing 
an  arm  lovingly  about  his  companion's  waist. 

"It  might  not  be,  Rob,"  replied  this  young  daughter 
of  Eve,  coyly,  with  still  lowered  head. 

"Well,  I've  never  said  anything  to  you  about  love 
in  so  many  words,  Alice,"  broke  out  Robert,  now  feel 
ing  encouraged  to  speak  boldly,  'because  it  didn't  seem 
necessary  for  me  to;  our  case  is  so  different  to  the 
average  one,  you  know.  Why,  we've  always  loved 
each  other;  at  least,  7  have  you;  and  you  have  me, 
too,  haven't  you,  sweetheart?"  he  urged,  wistfully; 
raising  the  blushing  face,  and  finding  the  confession 
he  sought  in  the  now  glowing,  love-lit  eyes,  which 
smiled  with  such  perfect  sincerity  and  happiness  up 
into  his  own.  "Of  course,  I've  always  expected  you 
to  be  my  wife  when  we  get  a  little  older,"  he  went  on 


262  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  say,  "and  until  Gerald  came,  I  had  never  thought 
of  such  a  thing  as  any  one's  taking  you  from  me.  I 
can  stand  his  loving  you,  though,  if  you  wont  return 
it;  but  I  couldn't  stand  it  if  you  did,  Alice;  really  I 
couldn't,  for  my  heart's  been  bound  up  in  you  too  long 
and  too  completely  for  that.  I  think  it  would  kill  me ; 
but  if  it  didn't  quite  do  that,  it  would  change  me  so 
that  I  would  be  far  better  dead;  I  can  feel  that  it 
would,  Alice;  that  I  should  never  be  the  same  again," 
acknowledged  the  youth;  with  almost  frightening  in 
tensity  and  earnestness.  "So  tell  me  that  you  don't 
care  for  him,'  he  pleaded. 

"No,  Rob,  I  don't  love  Gerald,  or  any  one  else  but 
you"  whispered  the  girl,  with  a  sweet  and  most  sat 
isfying  assurance.  Why  do  you  suppose,  for  a 
moment,  that  I  ever  could  love  another,  when,  as  every 
one  knows,  I've  worshipped  you  all  my  life?" 

"Then  promise  me,  sweetheart,  that  you  won't  let 
Gerald  take  you  away  from  me;  that  you'll  wait  for 
me,"  begged  the  youth ;  a  deep,  unwonted  pathos  now 
thrilling  his  strong,  young  voice.  "I'm  studying  real 
hard,  Alice,  and  it  won't  be  so  very  many  years  more 
before  I'm  through  and  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  then 
see  if  I  don't  make  a  name  for  you  of  which  you  can 
well  be  proud;  and  a  fortune,  too,"  he  concluded, 
confidently. 

"I  know  I  shall  always  have  cause  to  be  proud  of 
you,  Rob,"  replied  the  girl,  with  as  much  confidence 
as  himself;  "and  even  if  you  never  succeeded  in 


YOUTHFUL  LOVERS  263 

making  a  fortune,  it  wouldn't  matter,  for  I  shall  have 
enough  for  us  both.  Gerald  hasn't  the  least  thought 
of  wanting  to  take  me  from  you,  Rob ;  I'm  positive  of 
that.  But  if  he  had,  I  wouldn't  let  him.  Of  course, 
this  isn't  a  regular  engagement,  with  a  ring,  announce 
ment  Tea  and  all  that,  but  I'll  wait  for  you  just  the 
same  as  if  it  was,  Rob ;  of  that  you  can  rest  assured ; 
and  what  is  more,  I  shall  never  be  fully  happy,  either, 
until  I  come  back  again  to  dear  Mamma  Manning 
and  you." 

"You've  taken  an  awful  load  from  my  heart,  Alice," 
returned  the  relieved  youth,  gratefully;  sealing  her 
comforting  assurance  and  flattering  confession  with 
their  first  kiss  of  acknowledged  love.  "I've  been  so 
miserable  the  past  few  weeks,  that  I've  been  tempted 
to  do  all  manner  of  dreadful  things,"  he  went  on. 
"Why,  I  was  never  so  unhappy  in  all  my  life,  Alice." 

Don't  smile,  reader,  at  what  may  appear  to  you — 
inexperienced  perhaps,  or  else  more  experienced,  and 
therefore  satiated  and  inured — his  childish  acknowl 
edgment.  Remember,  that  Robert  Manning  was  a 
life-long  lover  and  an  utterly  devoted  one ;  and  while 
a  boy's  heart  may  be  more  easily  mended  than  a  man's, 
it  also  suffers  more  easily  and  acutely. 

"You  haven't  acted  one  bit  like  yourself,  either, 
Rob,"  returned  the  girl,  seriously,  "and  I  couldn't 
imagine  what  was  the  matter  with  you.  Why,  you've 
been  actually  grumpy  much  of  the  time,  and  when 
anybody's  grumpy,  Aunt  Alice  always  attributes  it  to 


264  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

a  torpid  liver;    so  I  had  about  concluded  that  your 
liver  must  be  torpid." 

"I  don't  think  it  was  a  torpid  liver,  Alice,"  now 
laughed  the  relieved  young  lover,  gaily,  "and  I'm  dead 
sure  of  one  thing;  it  was  anything  but  a  torpid 
heart." 


CHAPTER  IV. 
GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL. 

"  'I  have   to  confess   to   an   extravagant   fond 
ness   for   the   witching   little   beauty,   myself.' " 

Vacations  were  over.  Alice,  finishing  at  Geneva 
Lake,  as  had  her  aunt,  had  returned  and  entered  upon 
her  last  year  there.  Robert — whose  intended  course 
at  Harvard  had  become  impracticable  through  their 
altered  circumstances — had  matriculated  at  the  excel 
lent  University  of  his  native  State;  entering  with 
records  both  for  scholarship  and  athletics  which  left 
him  without  a  rival  among  the  large  enrollment  of 
Freshmen  upon  its  register;  while  in  addition  to  the 
college  curriculum,  the  youth  had  also  taken  up  the 
reading  of  law  outside ;  against  the  advice  of  his  pro 
fessors,  and  notwithstanding  the  mother's  fears  that 
it  might  prove  too  great  a  tax  upon  the  strength  of  the 
yet  growing  lad.  But  both  in  mind  and  body,  Robert 
Manning  was  fortunately  able  for  much  of  hard  work, 
with  a  fancy  for  it,  as  well ;  and  now,  carrying  about 
with  him,  as  he  did,  the  inspiring  consciousness  of  a 
returned  love  to  fire  him  with  the  ambition  to  com 
plete  the  preparation  for  his  life  work  in  the  shortest 
possible  time,  the  constant  application  to  study  which 
the  two  entailed,  seemed  more  recreation  than  tasks  to 
the  enthusiastic  young  student. 


266  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Gerald  Harding  had  gone  back  to  work ;  his  studies 
were  of  course  completed,  and  he  was  now  becoming 
known  to  Paris  as  one  of  her  cleverest  young  car 
toonists.  This,  his  chosen  branch  of  Art,  the  young 
man  was,  as  we  have  seen,  particularly  well  fitted  for 
by  nature,  and  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  he  had  been 
both  diligent  and  painstaking  in  his  preparation ;  so 
that  he  was  now  beginning  to  reap  the  merited  re 
ward  of  industry.  His  efforts  were  meeting  with 
encouraging  recognition ;  his  productions  not  only 
finding  a  market,  but  the  leading  journals  of  his 
adopted  city  were  already  entering  into,  at  least,  a  mild 
competition  for  their  possession.  He  was  in  conse 
quence  beginning  to  prosper,  becoming  anxious  for  a 
wife,  Alice  Nichols  was  unfortunately  his  choice,  and 
he  was  desperately  infatuated  with  the  girl. 

Had  he  declared  himself  to  her  during  those  few 
delightful  weeks  together  at  the  Lake,  do  you  ask? 
No,  reader ;  knowing  what  he  did,  none  but  a  bungling 
amateur  could  have  been  guilty  of  so  egregious  a 
fau.v  pas  as  that;  and  he  was  a  past  master  in  the 
gentle  art  of  love-making,  was  this  latter-day  Don 
Juan.  Moreover,  it  was  not  for  the  purpose  of  making 
love  to  any  girl  that  he  had  come  sailing  home  at  that 
particular  time,  you  remember,  but  from  affectionate 
longing  after  his  devoted  foster-mother,  if  you  please. 
This  worthy  (?)  act,  however,  had  'killed  two  birds 
with  one  stone/  as  it  were,  for  the  pretender,  since  it 
had  won  for  him  the  high  regard  of  the  girl ;  a  point 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  267 

which  he  considered  himself  fortunate  to  have  scored, 
and  there  had  been  others,  too,  gained  by  his  enter 
taining  qualities ;  for  Gerald  was  an  intelligent  fellow, 
and  she  herself  has  stated  that  he  talked  to  her  on 
'nice,  interesting  subjects'.  Of  such  the  man  had  a 
very  creditable  supply,  even  when  confining  himself 
strictly  to  the  truth ;  which  it  must  be  admitted,  how 
ever,  he  was  not  always  careful  to  do,  having  no  con 
scientious  scruples,  whatever,  against  handling  the 
truth  a  bit  carelessly,  if  thereby  he  might  make  or 
clinch  a  telling  point. 

Now  the  thrilling,  mature  experiences  of  masculine 
twenty-seven,  read  much  like  ancient  history  to  in 
experienced,  wondering  feminine  eighteen  ;  and  Youth 
feels  ever  a  sort  of  reverence  for  that  which  savors 
of  the  larger  wisdom  of  accumulated  years.  Hence, 
the  flattering  way  in  which  this  young  girl  would  fre 
quently  hang  upon  the  utterances  of  this  young  man, 
spoke  volumes,  as  well  for  the  interesting  nature  of 
the  subject  matter  as  for  the  narrator's  fascinating 
delivery. 

Thus,  deeply  pleased  with  himself  at  having  become 
so  well  established  in  her  good  opinions  in  so  short  a 
time,  Gerald  Harding  was  quite  content  to  let  well 
enough  alone,  and  not  alarm  the  unsuspecting  and 
somewhat  charmed  bird  to  irrecoverable  flight,  by  any 
too  sudden  or  ill-advised  swoop.  For  he  was  a  wise 
person  in  such  matters;  'wise  as  the  serpent';  would 
that  we  were  able  to  tell  of  him  also  as  being  'harmless 
as  the  dove'. 


268  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

He  had  parted  from  Alice,  however,  with  genuine 
and  unconcealed  regret,  upon  her  return  to  school, 
and  ere  he  bade  their  aunt  adieu,  a  few  days  later, 
had  unburdened  to  her  his  heart;  a  very  graceful 
opportunity  for  this  confession  having  arisen  through 
her  lamenting  of  the  girl's  absence.  "I  shall  be  so 
glad  when  Alice  is  at  home  with  us  again,"  she  had 
said,  "for  we  have  missed  her  so  dreadfully  while  at 
school;  she's  such  a  darling  that  your  uncle  and  I 
simply  adore  her." 

"I  don't  wonder  at  that,  Auntie,  for  I  have  to  con 
fess  to  an  extravagant  fondness  for  the  witching  little 
beauty,  myself,"  put  in  the  lover,  quickly. 

"Not  too  much  of  an  one,  I  hope,  Gerald,"  returned 
his  aunt,  thoughtfully ;  with  something  very  like 
alarm  in  her  expression. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  responded  her  nephew,  coolly, 
"for  I'm  sure  you'll  agree  with  me,  that  a  fellow  can't 
be  too  fond  of  the  girl  he  intends  having  for  a  wife; 
can  he?" 

"Of  course  he  can't;  but  you  really  mustn't  harbor 
any  such  intentions  as  that  in  regard  to  Alice,  my  dear 
boy,"  answered  Mrs.  Nichols,  decidedly,  "for  she's 
already  spoken  for;  heavily  mortgaged,  as  they  say," 
she  finished,  with  a  light  laugh. 

"Why,  is  that  so  ?"  replied  the  other,  with  a  show  of 
blankest  surprise.  "Who  to,  pray?" 

"Why,  to  Rob  Manning." 

"What!    that  kid!"  returned  the  man;    a  note  of 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  269 

mild  scorn  accompanying  the  exclamation.  "Why, 
Auntie,  you  surely  wouldn't  marry  the  girl  to  a  child, 
like  him !  Give  her  to  a  man  !" 

"Robert's  an  exceptionally  manly  and  capable  boy 
for  his  years,  Gerald,"  said  Mrs.  Nichols,  with  gentle 
reproof  in  her  tone;  "and  of  course,  they're  not  likely 
to  marry  until  both  are  older.  But  they've  always 
been  intended  for  each  other;  you  surely  couldn't 
have  forgotten  about  that,  Gerald." 

"Now  you  recall  it,  Auntie,"  drawled  her  nephew, 
carelessly,  "I  do  seem  to  have  a  hazy  recollection  of 
hearing  some  sort  of  a  yarn  to  that  effect,  years  ago. 
But  you  certainly  don't  advocate  binding  children  by 
matrimonial  compacts  made  between  their  parents! 
Do  you?  Why,  that's  French;  Chinese;  anything 
but  American !  That  kind  of  thing  won't  go  down  in 
this  enlightened  country." 

"There  was  no  'compact,'  as  you  call  it,  made  be 
tween  the  parents  in  this  case,  Gerald ;  it  was  simply  a 
most  ardent  wish  upon  their  parts  that  their  children 
might  grow  up  sufficiently  fond  of  each  other  to  want 
to  marry;  and  that  wish  certainly  seems  likely  to  be 
realized,  for  Alice  and  Robert  love  each  other  very 
dearly,  I  think,"  declared  the  lady. 

"Pooh !  puppy  love,  Aunt  Alice !"  put  in  her  nephew, 

contemptuously.    "As  base  an  imitation  of  the  grande 

passion  as  paste  gems  are  of  the  real  thing.     Filled 

with   such   notions    on    the    subject   as    they've   been 

brought  up  on,  of  course,  they  naturally  think  it's  the 


270  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

proper  thing  and  expected  of  them,  to  vow  undying 
love  for  each  other;  and  they'd  go  as  'lambs  to  the 
slaughter/  no  doubt,  if  some  one  didn't  interfere,  and 
ten  to  one,  live  a  perfect  cat-and-dog  life  ever  after" ; 
he  continued,  pityingly.  "How  should  either  of  those 
children  know  whether  the  other  is  the  one  person  in 
the  world  for  them,  I'd  like  to  know?  Why,  Auntie, 
it  would  be  positively  cruel  to  allow  them  to  go  ahead 
and  marry  without  giving  them  a  chance  to  find  out. 
Come  now,  don't  you  really  think  so  yourself?" 

"By  all  means,  Gerald,"  was  the  unhesitating  reply ; 
"and  as  I  said,  they've  several  years  before  them  yet 
in  which  to  fully  learn  their  own  minds;  Robert  has 
at  least  four  years  of  study  ahead  of  him ;  Alice  finishes 
next  Summer,  and  in  the  Fall  I  shall  bring  her  out. 
Once  in  Society,  the  girl's  sure  to  have  hosts  of 
admirers,  and  if  she  finds  herself  getting  to  love  any 
one  else  more  than  she  does  Rob,  why  the  thing  would 
be  called  off,  no  doubt,  by  mutual  consent ;  there's  no 
binding  engagement  as  yet,  you  understand ;  at  least, 
I  think  not.  I  fancy  it  would  go  very  hard  with  Rob, 
though,  if  Alice  ever  should  become  enamored  of  any 
body  else.  I  really  pitied  the  boy  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart,  this  Summer,  after  you  came;  why,  he  was 
simply  beside  himself  in  a  little  while," — "but  I  was 
beside  the  girl,"  chuckled  her  nephew,  gleefully,  to 
himself — "and  I  was  extremely  sorry,  Gerald,  that  you 
paid  such  open  court  to  Alice,  on  his  account." 

"O  pshaw,  Auntie!   'all's  fair  in  war  and  love',  you 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  271 

know/'  returned  the  man,  lightly.  "They're  free-for- 
all  games  in  which  the  strongest  wins;  and  whoever 
enters  the  lists  must  expect  to  give  and  take.  I  know 
I  made  the  lovesick  young  swain  that  miserably  jealous, 
dozens  of  times,  that  he  wanted  to  annihilate  me  on 
the  spot ;  and  it  was  great  sport  for  me,  I  assure  you, 
Auntie;  haven't  enjoyed  anything  so  much  in  a  dog's 
age,''  he  continued,  with  a  heartless,  reminiscent  laugh. 
Adding,  as  a  look  of  protest  clouded  the  face  of  his 
companion,  "Do  him  good,  Auntie!  help  to  make  a 
man  of  him !  after  his  heart's  been  broken  a  few  times, 
it  won't  be  so  blame  sensitive." 

"It  pains  me  greatly  to  hear  you  speak  like  that, 
Gerald,"  chided  his  Aunt.  "It's  so  lacking  in  sym 
pathy  ;  and  one  should  at  least  regret  causing  another 
pain,  and  avoid  the  offense,  if  possible,  beside.  Know 
ing  Robert's  expectations,  and  how  dear  Alice  is  to 
him,  you  were  hardly  warranted  in  giving  rein  to  your 
affection;  if  indeed  it  was  affection,"  she  concluded; 
as  though  in  doubt  even  upon  that  point. 

Piqued  at  the  evident  distrust  of  his  motives  which 
her  words  betokened,  Gerald  answered  in  an  aggrieved 
tone,  "I'm  very  sorry  and  surprised,  too,  Aunt  Alice, 
that  you  should  think  me  capable  of  trifling  with  the 
girl.  It  seems  to  me  you  should  know  me  better 
than  to  have  such  a  poor  opinion  of  me  as  that,"  he 
finished,  with  a  great  air  of  injured  innocence. 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  boy,  if  I  did  you  an  injustice," 
offered  the  other,  apologetically.  "Yet  you  can 


272  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

scarcely  wonder  at  my  feeling  somewhat  exercised, 
even  skeptical  on  the  subject,  considering  your  many 
previous  affairs  d' amour,  Gerald." 

"O  those  were  all  childish  matters,  Aunt  Alice,  be 
fore  I  knew  my  own  mind/'  replied  the  man,  with  an 
impatient  gesture.  "Fortunately,  I  was  smart  enough 
to  wiggle  out  of  them  all  before  it  was  too  late ;  other 
wise  I  might  have  turned  out  a  bad  husband,  and 
disgraced  the  family." 

"It  would  have  been  still  better  to  have  kept  out  of 
them  in  the  first  place,  Gerald,'  protested  his  Aunt, 
mildly. 

"Didn't  hurt  me  a  bit,  Auntie ;  good  experience  for 
a  fellow."  The  man  laughed. 

"Yes;  but  what  about  the  poor  girls,  Gerald?  It 
was  of  them,  I  was  thinking." 

"O  it's  every  man  for  himself  in  this  world,  Auntie" ; 
returned  her  nephew,  with  an  unfeeling  shrug.  "I 
couldn't  be  expected  to  worry  about  them;  had  my 
mind  and  hands  full  enough  managing  to  get  myself 
out  of  the  blamed  scrapes,  the  Lord  knows!  It  was 
their  misfortune  to  have  been  born  with  too  susceptible 
natures,  that's  all;  and  I  guess  none  of  them  ever 
broke  their  hearts  over  the  affairs,  anyway." 

"And  how  am  I  to  know  that  this  latest  one  isn't 
a  'childish  matter,'  also?  If  it  is,  and  Alice  got  to 
loving  you,  her  heart  would  be  at  least  one  that  you 
had  broken;  that's  sure." 

"You  know  it  isn't  a  childish  matter,  because  I'm  a 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  273 

man,  now,  Auntie,  and  doesn't  the  Good  Book  say  that 
when  one  becomes  a  man  he  puts  away  childish  things  ? 
That's  good  enough  authority,  isn't  it?  You  pious 
folks  seem  to  think  it  is  on  most  subjects,'  concluded 
her  nephew,  flippantly. 

"The  Bible  is  nowhere  authority  for  any  such  broad 
statement,"  replied  Mrs.  Nichols,  with  much  dignity. 
"Some  men  never  get  beyond  being  children.  And, 
Gerald,"  she  continued,  very  reprovingly,  "I  do  wish 
you  would  try  to  overcome  that  unworthy  habit  of  jest 
ing  at  sacred  things ;  it's  always  such  a  reflection  upon 
a  young  man's  bringing  up  to  do  so,  and,  in  your  case, 
certainly  very  unjust  to  your  uncle  and  me;  for  both 
by  precept  and  example,  you  know  you  were  trained 
so  differently." 

"Forgive  me  for  wounding  you,  Aunt  Alice,"  now 
offered  the  young  man,  with  some  show  of  contrition. 
"Of  course,  to  be  the  credit  that  I  ought  to  your  and 
Uncle  George's  good  training,  I  should  be  a  paragon 
of  all  the  virtues;  I  know  that.  But  it's  clear  that 
I'm  not,  and  I'm  afraid  it's  not  'in  the  nature  of  the 
baste,'  Auntie;  though  I  suppose  I'm  not  much  worse 
than  the  average  young  man,  and  not  better  perhaps, 
either,"  he  admitted.  "Anyhow,  I  don't  set  myself  up 
for  a  saint.  But  to  return  to  our  subject;  my  senti 
ment  for  Alice  isn't  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath 
with  any  former  fancy.  I'm  unquestionably  in  love 
now,  and  I  realize  that  it's  the  first  time,  too.  I  want 
the  dear  young  creature,  Auntie ;  and  you  Know  when 
Gerald  Harding  wants  a  thing,  he  wants  it." 


274  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"Yes,  Gerald,  I  know ;  although  it's  hardly  neces 
sary  to  remind  your  foster-mother  of  that  fact."  This 
with  quite  unflattering  frankness,  though  not  unkindly, 
while  his  aunt  smiled  a  knowing  smile.  "I'm  not  at  all 
surprised  that  you  should  want  the  girl,  either,"  she 
added ;  "but  Alice  is  as  you  say,  young,  and  I'm  think 
ing  ,  might  it  not  be  wiser  for  you  to  look  for  someone 
nearer  your  own  age?" 

"Well,  that's  surely  a  good  one  on  you,  Aunt 
Alice," — her  nephew,  now,  in  turn,  laughed  quite 
heartily  for  a  moment — "seeing  that  she's  a  whole  lot 
nearer  to  my  age  than  you  are  to  Uncle  George's.  A 
lapsus  lingua  that,  surely;  you  didn't  wait  to  think 
three  times  before  you  spoke,  as  you  always  advised 
my  doing;  that's  very  evident.  But,  all  jokes  aside,  if 
she  and  I  married  and  lived  half  as  happily  together 
as  you  and  he  have  done,  there'd  be  no  kick  a-comin' 
from  dis  yer  chile;  you  can  safely  bet  your  bottom 
dollar  on  that.  Alice  is  my  ideal,  exactly;  first,  as  to 
looks.  Now  an  artist, — as  you  can  readily  under 
stand, — could  never  be  happy  with  a  scarecrow  or  a 
dowdy  seated  opposite  him  at  table  all  his  life,  so  I 
should  never  think  of  marrying  any  but  a  pretty  girl. 
Alice  is  more  than  pretty,  she's  beautiful;  with  that 
ethereal  beauty" — "comes  from  the  beautiful  soul 
within,  Gerald,"  interrupted  his  Aunt — "so  rarely  met 
with,  which  makes  her  a  continual  feast  to  the  eye; 
hence,  she  will  always  be  pleasing  to  me,  you  see." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  responded  his  listener,  laconically,  with 
a  significant  nod. 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  275 

"Then,  having  been  brought  up  at  home  almost  en 
tirely  and  alone,  her  innocence  is  so  delightfully  re 
freshing  as  to  be  charming.  Excuse  me,  please,"  he 
went  on,  "from  marrying  one  of  your  up-to-date,  en 
lightened,  know-it-all  young  misses,  who  could  give 
their  mothers — yes,  and  their  grandmothers  even — 
pointers  and  rules  for  guidance  upon  delicate  matters 
that  they  should  know  nothing  whatever  about,  with 
out  so  much  as  a  blush  or  the  blink  of  an  eye.  I  shall 
be  quite  capable,  I  guess,  of  teaching  my  wife  all  that 
it's  necessary  for  her  to  know  along  those  lines ;  more 
than  that  she's  better  ignorant  of.  Then  another  thing ; 
her  disposition's  perfect,  absolutely;  so  sweet,  unselfish 
and  forgiving;  and  whoever  she  marries,  she'll  no 
doubt  have  enough  exercise  for  those  good  qualities 
to  prevent  their  becoming  atrophied.  She's  accom 
plished,  too,"  he  went  on  to  enumerate,  "and  has  a 
fortune.  Not  that  I'd  marry  for  money,  you  under 
stand  ;  I  don't  have  to.  I  can  put  my  hand  on  a  pretty 
penny  of  my  own, — or  will  be  able  to  in  a  few  years 
more,"  he  qualified — "and  could  have  done  so  long  be 
fore  this,  if  that  pesky  old  Grandad  of  mine  hadn't 
been  so  ridiculous !" 

"Gerald,  why  will  you  speak  with  such  disrespect  of 
your  Grand-father!"  burst  out  Mrs.  Nichols,  indig 
nantly.  "I  hoped  I  had  you  broken  of  that  reprehen 
sible  habit." 

"Well  it  was  a  pesky  thing  for  the  darned  old  duffer 
to  do,  Auntie,"  persisted  the  man,  angrily. 


276  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"O,  my  boy,  you  seem  incorrigible!"  The  woman's 
deep  drawn  sigh  of  disappointment  was  indicative  of 
recognized  failure.  "We  must  surely  have  spoiled 
you." 

"No  you  didn't,  Auntie;  but  what's  the  sense  of 
keeping  a  fellow's  money  from  him  'till  he's  got  one 
foot  in  the  grave-r,  and  the  other  all  butte-r,  as  your 
drawling  Methodists  say.  Let  him  have  it  while  he's 
young,  and  can  enjoy  it." 

"You  won't  be  an  old  man,  by  any  means,  when  you 
come  into  your  own,  Gerald,"  spoke  up  his  aunt,  with 
asperity;  "and  had  it  been  yours  to  control  younger, 
it  might  very  easily  have  been  a  minus  quantity  with 
you  by  this  time;  you  wouldn't  have  set  the  fashion 
in  Prodigal  Sons,  you  know,  by  any  means.  Your 
Grand-father  was  exceedingly  wise,  I  think." 

"Well,  Auntie,  we've  never  happened  to  hold  the 
same  opinions  on  that  subject,"  rejoined  the  other, 
with  really  rude  uppishness,  "and  it's  hardly  likely 
that  we  ever  will;  so  we'd  better  agree,  perhaps,  to 
disagree,  and  not  discuss  it  further.  I'd  much  prefer 
talking  about  the  girl,  anyway;  far  pleasanter  theme. 
As  you  see,"  he  went  on,  determinedly,  "she  possesses 
every  qualification  to  make  me  supremely  happy,  which 
felicity  you'd  hardly  begrudge  me,  I  think." 

"It  would  certainly  seem  as  though  she  did,  Gerald," 
returned  the  aunt,  with  an  amused  smile,  ignoring  her 
nephew's  rather  sarcastic  closing  remark.  "But  what 
about  her  'felicity'?  I  haven't  heard  so  much  as  a 
syllable  on  that  score,  yet." 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  277 

"Why,  there's  no  question  but  what  a  wife  could  be 
happy  enough  with  me,  Aunt  Alice,"  returned  the  man, 
with  an  elevation  of  brow  betokening  great  surprise  at 
the  preposterous  question.  "I'm  not  bad  looking,  have 
some  brains — I  flatter  myself — and  a  little  talent,  am 
becoming  famous,  can  provide  her  a  fine  establish 
ment,  and,  as  husbands  go,  have  no  doubt  I  shall  prove 
rather  a  decent  sort  of  fellow.  That  is,"  he  continued, 
"if  I  can  have  the  one  I  love.  Of  course,  if  I  made 
a  marriage  de  convenance,  or  with  one  of  those  flippy, 
flappy,  flighty  French  girls  who  hover  about  a  fellow's 
studio  like  harpies,  for  whom  I  didn't  care  a  sou- 
markee,  and  whom  I  knew  was  only  marrying  me  as 
a  means  to  an  end — for  you  must  know,  Auntie,  that 
the  creed  of  the  average  Parisienne  is  not  that  mar 
riage,  in  itself,  is  pleasure,  but  merely  the  semi-re 
spectable  path  to  it — why  there  might  be  some  room  for 
doubt  upon  the  subject.  But  not  if  it's  Alice,  Auntie; 
not  if  it's  Alice ;  I  should  be  devotion  itself  to  her,  for 
I  love  her;  madly;  passionately;  wildly;  and  of  course 
I'd  make  her  life  happy.  So  promise  me  that  you'll 
bring  her  over  next  year  and  let  me  have  my  innings 
before  she  makes  her  bow  to  Society,"  he  finished. 
"You  ought  to  be  willing  to  give  your  pet  nephew 
that  much  of  a  handicap,  surely." 

Now  the  conversation  with  her  loved  nephew  had 
been  a  very  great  disappointment  to  Mrs.  Nichols,  for 
it  had  clearly  shown  all  those  adverse  traits  of  char 
acter  which  she  had  hoped,  nay  almost  believed,  over- 


278  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

come,  to  be  still  present;  even  dominant  and  virulent. 
The  knowledge  saddened  her;  and  taking  his  face 
between  her  hands  as  he  ceased  speaking,  she  studied 
it  intently  for  a  moment;  then  said  with  deep  feeling, 
"Oh,  my  boy!  you  are  so  like  your  father!  and  he 

was  a very  handsome  man,  Gerald,"  she  finished, 

lightly,  with  a  forced,  yes,  a  sad  smile,  and  as  though 
in  pity ;  checking  the  reproach  which  had  hurried  itself 
to  her  lips;  for,  no,  she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
taunt  the  unresponsible  offspring  with  the  shortcomings 
of  its  sire. 

"And  you'll  bring  her  over,  Auntie?"  urged  Gerald, 
coaxingly. 

"Perhaps,"  was  the  evasive  reply. 

"O,  don't  be  so  beastly  indefinite!"  exclaimed  the 
other,  impatiently;  with  almost  an  exhibition  of  his 
old-time,  childish  petulance.  "Promise,  and  cheer  a 
fellow  with  the  glad  anticipation." 

But  Mrs.  Nichols  shook  her  head.  "I'll  think  about 
it,  Gerald,'  she  at  length  vouchsafed.  And  this  promise 
the  woman  faithfully  kept;  indeed,  had  his  foster- 
mother  been  inclined  to  dismiss  the  project  from  her 
mind,  the  many  importunate  reminders  in  the  now  fre 
quenter  letters  would  have  prevented. 

But  the  more  the  subject  was  dwelt  upon  by  her, 
each  weighing  and  measuring  of  the  man,  but  forced 
her  the  more  irrevocably  to  the  sorry  conclusion — for 
Gerald  was  still  dear  to  his  Aunt  Alice — that  he  was 
neither  a  worthy  or  safe  person  to  be  trusted  with  the 


GERALD'S  DISTURBING  AVOWAL  279 

future  of  her  innocent  young  charge;  that  it  must  be 
her  unpleasant  duty,  not  only  to  keep  them  apart,  but 
even  to  dissuade  the  girl  against  the  favoring  of  his 
suit,  should  she,  perchance,  at  any  time  show  a  dispo 
sition  to  do  the  reverse,  when  he  himself  should 
make  opportunity  to  press  it, — as  she  well  knew  the 
determined  man  would  do. 

"Cruel,  heartless,  irreverent,  ungrateful,  disrespect 
ful,  selfish,  probably  loose,"  mused  the  aunt,  deject 
edly,  when  reviewing  her  nephew's  dominant  traits, 
revealed  so  glaringly  in  this  interview  regarding  his 
love  affairs.  'Like  father  like  son/  she  moralized. 
Then  murmured  sorrowfully,  "O,  my  poor,  deluded 
sister!  To  think  that  it  should  have  been  your  un 
happy  fate  to  be  instrumental  in  perpetuating  such  per 
nicious  qualities;  Heaven  pity  the  girl  who  becomes 
his  wife!  Not  for  lack  of  vigilant  and  loving  over 
sight  upon  my  part,  shall  my  dear  motherless  one  ever 
come  under  the  spell  of  his  baleful  influence." 

And  yet,  while  registering  with  herself  this  worthy 
vow,  a  beautiful  sense  of  loyalty  kept  Mrs.  Nichols' 
lips  sealed  as  to  this  unflattering  opinion  of  Gerald; 
not  even  to  her  husband,  who  like  herself  had  dwelt 
upon  the  young  man's  seeming  improvement  with 
much  gratification,  would  she  speak  of  the  bitter 
disappointment  which  she  had  experienced  in  him  at 
the  very  last. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  CRUEL  PLOT — RELUCTANT  GOODBYES. 

"'Well,  all  I  can  do  is  to  hope  for  the  best; 
Georgie's  good  name  must  be  preserved  at  any 
cost,  if  possible.'  " 

"  'And  you  won't  forget  me,  dearest'?" 

Now  Gerald  Harding' s  glowing  tribute  to  the  en 
viable  felicity  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nichols, — which  the 
reader  has  in  mind  from  the  foregoing  conversation — 
was  but  an  echo  of  the  same,  oft-repeated  sentiment  of 
their  many  friends ;  for  in  the  exclusive  social  set  in 
which  they  moved,  the  couple  were  regarded  as  a  syn 
onym  for  the  most  perfect  conjugal  affection.  Love — 
not  the  diluted,  expansive  variety,  but  the  pure,  con 
centrated  essence — had  been  the  sole  excuse — reason, 
rather — for  their  marriage ;  and  their  pathway  through 
life  had  been  made  almost  dazzlingly  bright  by  the  un- 
flickering  steadiness  of  its  holy  flame.  Despite  the 
croakings  of  the  envious, — who  had  prophesied  for 
them  but  a  short  and  unsatisfactory  married  life, — not 
even  the  divorce-laden  atmosphere  of  their  home  city 
had  been  able  to  inject  into  their  Eden,  dissatisfaction 
and  discontent;  the  deadly  germs  of  its  infection. 

With  kind,  indulgent  eyes,  life  had  looked  upon 
them  out  of  a  uniformly  smiling  face.  One  boon  alone 
had  it  denied  them:  pledges  of  their  love.  But  far 


A  CRUEL  PLOT  281 

from  proving  a  bone  of  contention  between  the 
two, — as  is  sometimes  the  case, — the  disappointment 
had  but  served  to  deepen  the  affection  of  each  for  the 
other.  Health  and  prosperity  had  been  their  blessed 
portion,  and  the  pride  of  the  husband  in  the  grace, 
dignity  and  eclat  with  which  the  wife  had  presided  over 
the  costly  home  his  ability  and  industry  had  provided, 
was  not  less  than  hers,  in  the  honorable  position  to 
which  he  had  attained  among  his  fellows.  True,  the 
wife,  during  all  their  more  than  twenty  years  of  part 
nership,  had  quite  lived  up  to  her  reputed  extravagant 
tastes ;  but  the  husband's  happiness  in  catering  to  her 
expensive  whims  and  wishes  had  been  boundless. 
Money  had  been  plentiful  always,  and  certainly  she 
had  used  it  without  stint.  How  or  where  it  came  from 
had  given  her  no  thought  or  concern,  and  not  unnat 
urally  ;  for  Mr.  Nichols  had  been  a  man  of  means 
before  taking  unto  himself  a  wife,  as  well  as  estab 
lished  in  a  profitable  business ;  beside  which,  her  con 
fidence  in  'GeorgieY  ability  to  move  mountains  in  this 
as  in  any  other  matter,  was  absolute;  while  he,  had 
troubles  come,  would  fain  have  borne  them  to  the 
breaking  point,  alone,  before  that  any  anxious  thought 
or  care  should  have  been  laid  upon  the  light  and  joyous 
heart  of  his  much  loved  wife. 

George  Nichols,  however,  had  always  been  a  spec 
ulator,  and  with  the  Bears.  So  long  as  he  felt  himself 
to  be  a  comparatively  little  ship,  he  had  been  content 
to  keep  reasonably  close  to  shore;  but  as  the  years 


282  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

went  by,  and  the  fickle  goddess,  Fortune,  steadily 
smiling  upon  him,  more  and  more  crowned  both  his 
legitimate  endeavors  and  speculative  ventures  with 
success,  the  one-time  cautious  gambler  became  grad 
ually  emboldened  to  a  deeper  and  deeper  dabbling  in 
the  fascinating,  risky  business,  until,  in  the  Spring  of 
'98,  standing  in  with  the  powers  that  were,  and  gov 
erned  by  an  unshakable  belief  in  their  ability  to  bring 
about  a  fierce,  speedy  and  permanent  slump  from  the 
abnormally  and  unwarranted  high  price  of  wheat,  he 
had  at  last  plunged  recklessly  in;  only  to  go  down- 
after  a  few  days  of  alternate  bounding  hope  and  rack 
ing  fear — to  practically  financial  ruin,  as  the  result  of 
an  attempted  disastrous  corner  of  that  year.  With 
blindest  confidence  the  man  had  sold  short  to  such  an 
incredible  degree,  that  in  order  to  maintain  his  business 
standing  and  credit  by  covering  at  once,  he  had  been 
obliged  to  sacrifice  his  entire  personal  holdings,  valu 
able  properties  and  stocks  and  bonds.  So  that,  when 
debts  had  been  paid  and  his  affairs  once  more  adjusted, 
the  salvage  from  the  wreck  of  a  large  fortune  of  a  few 
weeks  earlier  consisted  of  a  bank  account,  adequate  for 
little  if  any  more  than  a  year's  living,  and  their  town 
and  country  homes;  both  of  which  had  been  given  to 
the  wife  outright  at  time  of  building,  long  years  before. 
Mr.  Nichols  was  already  several  years  beyond  the 
three-score-and-ten  mark,  at  this  time,  and  could  there 
fore  no  longer  be  classed  as  a  young  man,  although  up 
to  this  period  in  life  he  had  been  considered  as  excep- 


A  CRUEL  PLOT  283 

tionally  level-headed  by  his  confreres;  yet  by  no  pos 
sible  stretch  of  the  imagination  could  this  last  hazard 
ous  putting  of  all  his  eggs  into  one  basket  have  been 
termed  a  wise  proceeding.  However,  had  there  been 
individual  loss  only  to  worry  over,  the  man  would  no 
doubt  have  quickly  rallied  from  the  shock  to  pride  and 
purse,  and,  undaunted,  have  taken  up  the  task  of  re 
habilitating  his  shattered  fortunes ;  for  while  no  longer 
young,  he  was  sound  of  limb  and  stout  of  heart, 
blessed  also  with  a  wife,  who,  when  the  unwelcome 
news  could  no  longer  be  concealed  from  her,  in  view 
of  her  husband's  past  achievements,  had  risen  grandly 
to  the  situation,  with  such  an  uplifting  sympathy  and 
sublime  faith  in  his  undoubted  ability  to  recoup,  as  to 
be  both  comforting  -and  strengthening  in  the  extreme. 

Influenced,  however,  by  a  commendable  zeal — which 
had  unfortunately  outrun  his  judgment  at  this  time — 
for  the  increasing  of  his  nephew's  fortune  also,  he  had 
plunged  for  him,  as  well, — into  what  he  believed  to  be 
a  phenomenal  opportunity  for  them  both, — with  the 
result  that  seventy-five  thousand  dollars — three-fourths 
of  the  remaining  inheritance  which  must  be  turned 
over  to  the  young  man  scarcely  two  years  later — had 
been  swept  away. 

Brooding  over  this  latter  loss  and  the  discouraging 
outlook  for  escape  from  the  embarassing  predicament 
in  which  it  placed  him,  soon  brought  the  unhappy  man 
to  a  bed  of  sickness ;  and  not  even  the  long  period  of 
convalescence  at  their  mountain  home  had  been  able 


284  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  bring  back  the  color  to  his  cheek,  the  brightness  to 
his  eye,  or  the  healthy,  vigorous  tone  to  his  mind. 
He  seemed  all  at  once  to  have  become  an  old  man. 

This  disaster  had  occurred  during  the  Spring  pre 
ceding  Gerald's  unexpected  visit  home;  and  explains 
why  his  presence  seemed  to  make  'poor  Uncle  George/ 
— as  Alice  had  confided  to  Robert  Manning, — 'nervous 
and  irritable;  altogether  unlike  himself,  you  know/ 

Ignorant  of  the  cause, — for  he  had  not  yet  found 
heart  to  tell  his  wife  the  full  extent  of  his  losses, — Mrs. 
Nichols  was  of  course  much  puzzled  by  her  husband's 
changed  and  peculiar  attitude  towards  their  foster- 
child.  Setting  it  down,  however,  as  the  temporary  va 
gary  of  an  invalid,  without  comment  she  had  incon 
spicuously  made  a  point  of  keeping  the  two  as  much  as 
possible  apart.  But  after  Gerald's  departure  the  whole 
truth  had  come  out. 

It  was  a  disagreeable  revelation,  indeed,  to  the 
woman.  Their  own  losses  had  troubled  her  but  little ; 
Gerald's,  though,  was  quite  another  matter,  and,  as  she 
was  not  slow  to  realize,  a  serious  one  at  her  husband's 
time  of  life.  As  the  weeks,  aye,  months,  dragged  by, 
and  he  appeared  unable  to  rid  himself  of  the  burden  of 
depression  and  despondency  which  had  settled  down 
upon  him,  unfitting  him  for  the  same  former  successful 
handling  of  his  business,  the  one-time  confident  wife 
became  the  prey  of  very  disquieting  conjectures. 
What  if  the  required  amount  should  not  be  forth 
coming  at  the  stipulated  date  ?  was  the  distracting  ques- 


A  CRUEL  PLOT  285 

tion  she  now  often  asked  herself,  and  ever  with  in 
creased  anxiety.  Gerald,  ungrateful  and  wholly 
wrapped  up  in  self,  as  he  was,  would  show  no  dispo 
sition  to  leniency,  she  well  knew,  but  with  Shylockian 
rapacity  would  exact  the  pound  of  flesh,  and  the 
hitherto  unsullied  name  of  her  husband  would  then  be 
covered  with  infamy,  even  though  his  intentions  had 
been  of  the  purest. 

Ever  as  she  dwelt  upon  the  possibility  of  such  a  sad 
and  crushing  climax  to  the  blameless  life  of  the  noble 
man,  the  heart  of  the  fond,  proud  wife  was  filled  with 
dread  alarm ;  while  at  the  same  time  she  chafed  with 
intense  regret  at  her  seeming  inability  to  help  in  any 
way.  'To  be  sure,  there  are  my  properties/  she  would 
tell  herself,  'but  even  these  would  not  be  enough,  and 
at  Georgie's  age  and  impaired  state  of  health,  he  is  apt 
to  be  laid  aside  from  the  activities  of  business  life  at 
any  time,  and  then  I  would  need  them  to  sell  to  take 
care  of  him ;  so  of  course  we  couldn't  give  them 
to  Gerald,  even  if  he  would  be  satisfied  with  now 
mortgaged  real  estate.' 

For  many,  many  months  was  the  distressed  woman 
haunted  by  the  spectre  of  such  tormenting  fears,  un 
relieved  by  any  cheering  thought  or  ray  of  hope;  but 
upon  one  especially  depressing  day,  some  good — or  evil 
— genius,  had  suddenly  opened  the  eyes  of  her  mind 
to  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  A  way  so  simple,  seem 
ingly,  and  promising,  as  to  fill  her  with  wonderment 
that  the  expedient  had  not  long  before  been  thought  of 


286  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

by  her.  Gerald  was  in  love  with  Alice;  wished  to 
marry  her;  had  begged  for  and  was  counting  upon 
her  good  offices  to  that  end;  the  girl  had  money;  if, 
then,  she  should  bring  about  the  consummation  of  his 
wishes,  his  fondly  cherished  hopes, — and  why  not? 
she  had  helped  make  matches  before, — the  fortune  thus 
brought  would  compensate  for  the  loss  of  his  own, 
and  gratitude  to  her  for  securing  for  him  the  much 
coveted  prize,  would  certainly  keep  the  boy  from 
harboring  harsh  and  vindictive  feelings  against  his 
uncle. 

Thus,  speciously  did  she  reason  to  herself  regarding 
this  encouraging  new  idea,  which,  to  her  troubled  mind, 
seemed  freighted  with  the  only  feasible  solution  of  the 
perplexities  attending  the  harassing  situation.  Yet  not 
at  once,  nor  even  without  many  misgivings  at  the  last, 
could  the  love  which  was  impelling  this  loyal  little 
wife  to  the  shouldering  of  so  grave  and  far-reaching 
a  responsibility,  bring  her  to  commit  herself  to  an 
acceptance  of  the  tempting  proposition ;  so  deep-seated 
was  her  distrust  of  her  nephew,  so  great  her  love  for 
the  girl.  But  as  she  waited  and  waited,  and  watched 
in  vain  for  signs  of  improvement  in  her  dearly  loved 
husband,  his  well-being  became  paramount  to  all  other 
considerations;  at  length  converting  her  to  the  belief 
that  the  end  would  justify  the  means.  'As  for  Robert,' 
she  would  argue  to  herself,  in  defence  of  the  meditated 
treachery,  'why  he's  young,  and  will  get  over  the  dis 
appointment  in  time;  scarcely  anybody  marries  their 


A  CRUEL  PLOT  287 

first  love,  anyway,  and  later  in  life  are  mostly  glad  of 
it;  tastes  change  so  with  years.  And  as  for  Alice, 
why,  marriage  is  but  a  lottery  after  all;  and  Gerald 
may  prove  as  good  a  risk  as  Rob,  or  any  other  man. 
He  certainly  seems  very  deeply  in  love  with  her.  Well, 
all  I  can  do  is  to  hope  for  the  best;  Georgie's  good 
name  must  be  preserved  at  any  cost,  if  possible.' 

Now,  'in  a  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  safety' ; 
and  notwithstanding  her  well  known  passion  for 
managing  things,  in  this  emergency  Mrs.  Nichols 
would  gladly  have  sought  advice  and  taken  counsel  of 
some  more  experienced,  possible  wiser  head,  as  to  the 
better  course  to  pursue.  But  the  very  damaging  nature 
of  the  facts  in  the  case  seemed  to  make  it  altogether 
obligatory  that  she  keep  silence,  and  be  guided  but  by 
the  dictates  of  her  own  loving  and  distracted  heart. 

Once  conclusions  had  been  reached,  however,  and 
plans  formulated,  with  characteristic  directness  and 
singleness  of  purpose,  the  woman  began  injecting  into 
her  correspondence  with  her  nephew  a  noticeably  more 
encouraging  tone,  while  letters  to  her  niece,  thence 
forth  bristled  with  alluring  references  to  the  trip  before 
them  for  the  following  Summer,  and  glowing  pictures 
of  the  delights  in  store. 

Excepting  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nichols,  this  year  had 
been  a  pleasant  one  for  all  our  waiting  friends.  To 
the  happy — even  though  separated — young  lovers,  im 
mersed  in  study  as  both  were,  and  with  the  weeks  en 
livened  by  a  correspondence  bright  and  breezy,  while 


288  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

yet  softly  breathing  of  their  sweet,  young  love,  time 
had  flown  by  as  on  gold-tipped,  sparkling  wings.  The 
festive  Christmas-tide,  which  Alice  had  gone  West  to 
spend,  although  but  a  brief  one,  had  been  a  supremely 
happy  holiday  for  them  all;  for  Margaret  Manning's 
pride  and  pleasure  in  her  manly  son,  were  scarcely 
greater  than  those  felt  in  the  winsome  girl  in  whose 
affections  she  had  long  occupied  the  place  of  mother. 
Yes,  those  were  in  truth  happy  days  for  our  old-time 
friend,  in  spite  of  her  more  humble  home  and  modest 
manner  of  life ;  and,  oh,  how  many  there  were  to  envy 
her  the  devoted,  dutiful  son,  and  the  prospective 
daughter. 

"After  this  year,  I  shall  spend  half  of  my  time  with 
you,  Mamma,"  Alice  had  declared  to  her  mother  upon 
that  visit;  "and  only  that  I  know  it  would  disappoint 
Aunt  Alice  so,  I  wouldn't  go  to  Paris  next  Summer 
at  all.  You  know  I'd  much  rather  be  at  the  Lake  with 
you  and  Bob,  don't  you  ?" 

"I  like  to  believe  that  you  would,  dearie,"  replied 
the  elder,  with  an  affectionate  kiss;  "and  you  know 
how  dreadfully  we  shall  miss  our  little  girl.  But  we 
must  not  be  selfish.  Some  day  you'll  be  with  us  al 
ways,  and  when  the  time  comes,  it  will  be  a  day  of  the 
deepest  satisfaction  and  contentment  for  us  all,  I  am 
sure,  sweet  one." 

"And  you  won't  forget  me,  Dearie?"  implored 
Robert,  as  he  bade  his  adored  one  a  most  doleful  good 
bye  at  the  conclusion  of  her  short  visit.  "You  can't 


A  CRUEL  PLOT  289 

imagine  what  a  gloomy  prospect  it  is  for  me  to  think 
of  not  seeing  you  again  for  nearly  a  year,  Alice.  Why 
that's  much  the  longest  time  we've  ever  been  separated, 
in  all  our  lives!  and  it  will  be  an  Eternity  to  me;  es 
pecially  the  time  you're  with  Gerald.  "O,  sweetheart ; 
I  do  so  wish  you  weren't  going!"  he  finished,  de 
jectedly. 

"So  do  I,  Rob;"  answered  the  girl  promptly,  and 
there  was  no  doubting  the  sincerity  of  her  declaration. 
"But  you  know  I  simply  can't  get  out  of  it.  Don't 
worry  about  Gerald  though,  Rob,  please  don't ;  for  you 
know  it's  not  to  see  him  that  I'm  going.  Can't  you 
trust  me,  dear?"  she  asked,  a  bit  reproachfully;  "you 
know  that  I  don't  care  for  Gerald ;  that  I  shall  never 
love  any  one  but  you;  don't  make  me  unhappy  by 
doubting  me." 

"Forgive  me,  Alice,"  returned  the  troubled  youth. 
"I  know  it's  both  unjust  and  ungenerous  to  show  a 
seeming  lack  of  confidence,  and  after  all,  it's  more 
fears  than  doubts  that  disturb  me;  for  Gerald's  such 
a  handsome,  fascinating  fellow,  that  I  can't  help  feel 
ing  him  to  be  a  dangerous  rival." 

"And  he's  wonderfully  interesting  and  entertaining 
as  well,  Rob";  added  the  girl,  frankly.  "Auntie  says 
he'll  be  sure  to  make  our  visit  a  very  delightful  one, 
and  in  a  way,  I  expect  to  enjoy  it.  But  he  isn't  a  rival, 
at  all,"  Alice  corrected,  emphatically ;  "he  doesn't  want 
to  be;  of  that  I'm  positive;  but  if  he  did,  I  wouldn't 
let  him,  as  I've  told  you  many  times  already.  So  now  do 


290  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

let  that  assurance  drive  all  those  unworthy  doubts 
away.  I  shall  really  begin  to  think  you  don't  love  me 
if  you  keep  them  any  longer,  Rob,"  admonished  the 
girl.  Then,  "Right  after  we  get  back,  very  early  in 
the  Fall,  Auntie's  going  to  give  me  a  swell  'coming 
out' ;  and  after  that  I  shall  soon  come  back  home.  By 
Thanksgiving  at  the  very  latest,  I  shall  be  with  you 
again,  and  such  a  lot  of  the  time  afterwards;  and  O 
how  proud  you'll  be,  Rob,  of  a  girl  decked  out  as  fine 
as  /  shall  be" ;  she  concluded,  almost  vainly.  For  hers 
was  a  truly  feminine  young  heart,  which  adored  pretty 
things. 

"O,  shoot  the  clothes,  Alice!"  exclaimed  Robert, 
with  loving  impatience.  "It's  you  I'll  want  to  see,  and 
of  course  I'll  be  proud  of  you.  .  Besides,  all  the  ostrich 
and  marabout  tips — that's  what  you  call  'em,  isn't  it  ? — 
and  Bird  of  Paradise  plumage  in  the  world,  couldn't 
make  you  look  one  bit  lovelier  than  you  really  are." 

Thus,  reluctantly,  they  parted,  that  bright,  mid- Win 
ter  day,  these  our  dear  young  friends  in  whom  in 
terest  now  so  deeply  centers.  Thus  were  their  last 
goodbyes  said;  the  youth,  uncomfortably  oppressed 
by  anxious  fears,  although  unconscious  of  the  cruel 
plot  that  had  been  hatched  against  them,  and  notwith 
standing  the  oft-repeated  and  confident  assurances  of 
the  girl;  through  all  of  whose  future  correspondence 
upon  the  subject  also,  ran  ever  the  same,  glad,  cheer 
ing  note. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  TRIP  ABROAD LOVE  VerSUS  DUTY. 

"'Then  I  can't  do  it,  Auntie'!  exclaimed  the 
tortured  girl,  bursting  into  tears.  'For  just  the 
mere  thought  of  Rob's  loving  any  one  else 
makes  me  turn  <  >.  so  sick  and  taint'!" 

Stern  Winter's  reign  was  ended.  Snow  and  sleet 
and  icy  mask  had  long  since  vanished  before  the  con 
quering,  onward  march  of  gentle  Spring,  and  early 
Summer's  cloudless  skies,  invigorating  sunshine  and 
genial  breezes,  were  brooding  and  dancing  over  land 
and  sea. 

Had  the  eye  of  the  reader  been  scanning  the  pas 
senger  list  of  a  certain  ocean  greyhound  steaming  out 
of  New  York  harbor,  for  Plymouth,  England,  one 
late  June  day  of  that  year,  it  would  have  fallen  upon 
these  two  familiar  names: 

'Mrs.  George  Benedict  Nichols.' 

'Alice  Gertrude  Nichols/ 

and  maid. 

'Chicago,  111.' 

And  great  and  pardonable  would  have  been  the  pride 
felt,  in  claiming  old  acquaintance  with  a  singularly 
sweet,  aristocratic  looking  young  girl,  and  an  alert, 
stylish  matron — of  that  age  when  woman  is  said  to 
be  at  her  best,  the  early  forties — who  hurried  from  a 


292  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

rapidly  driven  cab  the  instant  it  had  stopped,  hastened 
down  the  deserted  gang-plank — which  had  already 
awaited  their  arrival  some  beyond  the  appointed  hour 
for  sailing — and  at  once  made  their  way  to  the  attrac 
tive  suite,  amid-ships,  reserved  for  the  owners  of  the 
aforesaid  names. 

As  the  residue  of  our  story  in  no  wise  hinges  upon 
the  incidents  of  this  voyage,  we  pass  them  over  in 
silence,  although  much  might  have  developed  from 
them ;  for  the  beautiful  young  bud  of  our  acquaintance 
speedily  became  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes;  the  target 
for  admiring  glances  from  the  men,  and  of  envy  or 
conjecture  from  many  of  the  women  aboard.  But 
the  unusually  watchful  and  attentive  chaperonage  of 
her  aunt,  afforded  little  opportunity  for  either  ex 
pressions  of  admiration  or  the  gratification  of  curi 
osity.  For  Mrs.  Nichols  was  not  upon  pleasure  bent, 
at  this  time,  it  must  be  understood.  She  was  now  a 
woman  with  a  mission;  seriously  set  upon  the  accom 
plishment  of  her  purpose,  and  withal,  deeply  conscious 
of  the  many  charms  of  her  attractive  young  niece. 

'Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty' ;  and  it  was 
no  part  of  her  carefully  arranged  programme  to  invite 
disaster  at  this  point,  by  allowing  opportunities  for  any 
possible  ship-board  flirtations  or  incipient  attachments, 
which  might  still  further  complicate  matters  and  prove 
but  additional  obstacles  for  her  to  overcome,  later. 
There  was  therefore  but  little  mingling  with  their  fel 
low  passengers,  and  that  little  even,  unsatisfactory ;  for 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  293 

a  natural  shyness  and  reserve  of  manner  with 
strangers,  upon  the  part  of  the  girl,  and  one  assumed 
for  the  occasion  by  the  older  woman,  soon  won  for  the 
pair  a  reputation  for  ultra-exclusiveness,  and  they  had 
been  left  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  seclusion,  welcome  in 
deed.  At  least,  welcome  to  the  preoccupied  mind  and 
overburdened  heart  of  the  lady.  Fortunately  somewhat 
brightened  for  her  fair  charge,  however,  by  a  big,  un 
expected  batch  of  steamer  letters,  and  a  'goodbye,  and 
don't  forget  Rob,'  upon  a  Western  Union  blank ;  all  of 
which  awaited  the  surprised  and  popular  girl. 

Important,  even  necessary  as  she  now  felt  her  er 
rand  abroad  to  be,  it  had  nevertheless  not  been  with 
out  reluctance  that  Mrs.  Nichols  had  torn  herself  from 
home  and  husband  for  a  time,  for  mentally,  Mr. 
Nichols  had  but  gone  from  bad  to  worse ;  while  phys 
ically,  his  condition  was  also  much  less  promising.  Yet 
these  very  facts  had  combined  to  freight  the  worried 
woman's  mind  with  an  unfaltering  conviction  as  to 
the  imperative  need  for  action  upon  her  part,  and  a 
feeling  of  impatient  haste  to  make  good,  as  well.  Loath 
as  she  had  been  to  leave  him  however,  her  husband's 
almost  pathetic  doggedness  of  determination  to  remain 
at  the  post  of  duty  at  this  time,  even  though  really 
little  able  for  the  pursuit  of  business,  had  truly  been 
a  relief  to  the  plotting  wife,  since  his  presence  would 
undoubtedly  have  made  the  carrying  out  of  her  un- 
divulged  scheme  extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible. 
She  had  therefore  made  no  effort  to  persuade  him  to 


294  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

accompany  her,  and  thus  it  happened  that  she  and 
Alice  had  set  out  alone,  on  this  momentous  journey. 

With  malice  aforethought,  during  the  exclusive  and 
intimate  association  of  the  trip  across,  the  story  of 
the  exceptional  love  and  care  bestowed  upon  her 
adored  father  when  a  helpless  child,  by  his  devoted 
elder  brother,  had  more  than  once  been  most  graphi 
cally  recounted  to  the  niece;  that  thereby  her  tender 
young  heart  might  be  filled  with  a  lively  sense  of  obli 
gation  and  gratitude  to  the  absent  uncle.  A  proceed 
ing  laudable  enough,  perhaps,  in  itself,  and  crowned 
with  the  desired  success;  but  surely  a  most  extra 
ordinary  manner  in  which  to  while  away  the  first 
leisure  of  a  young  graduate,  just  in  the  heyday  of 
delight  at  her  emancipation. 

But  Mrs.  Nichols  was  no  longer  her  former  jolly 
self;  due  solely — so  thought  her  sympathetic  com 
panion — to  anxiety  over  the  ill-health  of  her  husband ; 
and  only  once  upon  the  journey  did  the  old-time  vim 
and  spirit  flash  forth,  and  that  when  administering 
a  rebuke.  Their  uneventful  voyage  had  been  quickly 
made,  and  speeding  on  towards  London  with  the  mini 
mum  of  delay,  they  had  reached  the  great  metropolis 
on  the  'glorious  Fourth/  Their  greeting  with  a  'Hip ! 
Hurrah!'  by  a  group  of  staunch  Americans,  as  their 
nationality  was  recognized  by  the  tiny,  silken  flags, 
loyally  displayed  upon  the  lapels  of  their  traveling 
coats,  had  seemed  to  irritate  a  fellow  traveler — a  gruff 
son  of  Albion — who  immediately  took  occasion  to  give 
vent  to  a  boastful  'Brittania  rules  the  waves/ 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  295 

'Perhaps,'  instantly  retorted  the  zealous  little  patriot 
— whose  ire  was  at  once  aroused  by  the  uncalled-for 
fling — 'but  never  the  hearts  of  Columbia's  sons  and 
daughters,  and  especially  upon  this  proud  day.'  Ac 
companying  her  patriotic  and  silencing  words  with  a 
most  provoking  shrug,  and  tone  of  implied  uncertainty 
even,  upon  the  subject  of  his  boast. 

They  had  made  no  stay  in  London,  for  even  to  the 
girl  the  attractions  of  the  wonderful  city  were  not 
unknown ;  but  had  gone  hastening  on  to  their  Mecca, 
which  Alice  was  approaching  with  all  the  excited  joy- 
ousness  and  impatience  of  anticipation  of  a  young  girl, 
about  to  pay  her  initial  visit  to  the  Old  World's  fairy 
land,  and  even  more  than  usually  eager  to  arrive,  per 
haps,  because  of  their  particularly  quiet,  sober  voyage. 
But  at  Calais  a  delightful  surprise  awaited ;  for  Gerald 
had  run  up  to  meet  them,  and  her  advent  into  the  gay 
city  was  therefore  made  under  the  extravagantly  atten 
tive  escort  of  a  would-be  suitor. 

"Bless  your  sweet  life,  Auntie!"  was  the  young 
man's  first  and  grateful  exclamation,  while  giving  to 
Mrs.  Nichols  a  most  affectionate  welcome.  "I  can't 
begin  to  tell  you  how  over- joyed  I  am  to  see  you  and 
my  charming  Cousin  once  more" ;  and  in  his  eager, 
admiring  glances  as  he  greeted  the  girl,  their  Aunt 
had  been  rejoiced  to  read  the  hoped  for  tale  of  a  re 
strained,  but  undiminished  ardor,  an  impatient  love  and 
longing. 

That  the  man  was  indeed  proud  to  act  as  escort  to 


296  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

so  noticeable  a  girl  as  Alice,  could  not  be  questioned ; 
and  his  devoted,  almost  worshipful  attentions,  seemed 
to  evidence  a  great  and  wondrous  happiness  with 
which  her  presence  filled  his  heart.  Nor  was  the  girl 
ignorant  of  a  pleasurable  thrill  at  their  unexpected 
meeting;  for  Gerald,  as  we  know,  had  proven  a  very 
agreeable  and  interesting  companion  during  their  pre 
vious  association,  and  ignorant  of  his  intentions,  her 
greeting  contained  an  unaffected — we  might  say,  un 
conscious — warmth;  which  to  the  hopeful  and  con 
ceited  lover's  fancy,  evinced  a  gratifying  modicum  of 
encouragement. 

"Alice  knows  nothing  as  yet,  Gerald";  explained 
Mrs.  Nichols  to  her  nephew  as  they  two  canvassed  the 
situation  on  the  evening  of  her  arrival,  after  that  the 
girl,  at  her  suggestion,  had  retired;  "so  don't  be  too 
brash  at  first ;  go  a  bit  slow  for  a  little,  for  I  know  that 
she  will  have  to  be  won  gradually.  At  the  same  time," 
she  hinted  broadly,  "I  would  also  give  you  this  pointer ; 
if  you  really  want  her,  you  must  never  let  her  go  back 
to  Rob.  That  she  loves  him  is  undoubtedly  true,  for 
coming  over,  she  was  scarce  never  without  one  of  his 
letters,  his  photo,  or  his  parting  telegram  in  her  hands ; 
and  I  don't  know  how  many  replies  she  posted  when 
we  landed,  besides  cabling  him.  Still,"  she  went  on, 
encouragingly,  "out  of  sight  is  very  often  out  of  mind, 
we  know,  especially  with  a  young  person  in  a  gay 
whirl;  so  make  things  hum,  Gerald,  for  in  the  terse, 
expressive  language  of  our  future  classics,  it's  'the 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  297 

Johnny  on  the  spot'  who  usually  wins  out  in  such 
cases,  you  know."  Continuing,  in  a  very  impressive 
manner,  "There's  nobody  living  but  you  for  whom  I'd 
consent  to  interfere  in  a  love  affair,  my  dear  boy,  but 
'blood's  thicker  than  water/  and  you've  always  been 
very  dear  to  me,  Gerald.  Now  that  I've  delivered 
the  goods,  however,  I  wipe  my  hands  of  the  whole 
matter;  don't  expect  any  further  help  from  me;  hence 
forth  your  fate  is  in  your  own  hands,  and  if  you  fail 
to  win  so  tempting  a  prize  as  Alice,  why  it  will  cer 
tainly  not  be  through  any  remissness  of  mine.  It's 
hardly  necessary  for  me  to  tell  you  I  think" — she 
smiled  knowingly,  as  she  spoke — "that  it's  always 
the  part  of  wisdom  in  such  cases  to  'make  hay  while 
the  sun  shines/  or  that  'opportunities,  like  eggs,  should 
be  hatched  while  fresh.'  This  is  your  day  of  oppor 
tunity,  Gerald,  and  it  will  of  necessity  be  brief,  for  my 
stay  will  be  limited  in  consequence  of  your  uncle's  ill- 
health"  ;  the  bright,  earnest  face,  here  instantly  cloud 
ing  at  the  recollection.  "I  really  ought  not  to  have 
left  him  at  all."  A  sigh  of  regret  filled  an  instant's 
pause  ere  his  aunt  continued,  "When  I  return,  of 
course,  Alice  goes  with  me.  Unless — " 

"Unless  what?"  interjected  her  attentive  listener 
quickly,  as  the  woman  hesitated. 

"Why,  unless  she  should  have  been  persuaded  in 
the  meantime  to  change  her  name.  Verbum  sat 
sapienti,  Gerald" ;  she  finished,  after  much,  much  more 
conversation  in  the  same  strain ;  "you  haven't  al 
together  forgotten  your  Latin,  I  trust." 


298  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"No,  not  altogether,  Auntie,"  Her  nephew  laughed. 
"At  least,  I  can  still  manage  as  dead  easy  a  translation 
as  that,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  I'm  wise  enough  to 
not  need  more  than  one  word  upon  the  subject,  beside. 
Trust  me  to  not  let  such  a  tempting  prize  slip  through 
my  ringers;  and  the  happy  day  can't  come  a  bit  too 
soon  to  please  me,  either.  The  hard  part  will  be  to  go 
slow,  at  all ;  for  the  little  charmer's  surely  got  my 
tender  heart  thoroughly  in  tow.  But  how  long  shall 
you  be  here,  Auntie,  anyway  ?  How  many  days,  weeks 
or  months  am  I  to  have,  in  which  to  get  in  my  deadly 
work?"  he  inquired,  jokingly. 

"Two  months,  perhaps,  Gerald;  three  at  the  very 
most" ;  was  the  other's  exceedingly  business-like  reply. 

Thus  coached  and  advised,  the  young  man's  plans 
were  of  course  both  wisely  laid  and  warily  carried  out. 
A  constant  round  of  the  very  sight-seeing  and  merry 
making  best  calculated  to  captivate  the  heart  of  a  fresh, 
inexperienced  girl,  was  now  begun,  and  for  three  de 
lightful  weeks,  Alice  Nichols  lived  as  though  in  an 
enchanting  dream.  Gerald  was  taking  a  long  arranged 
for  vacation  and  his  time  was  therefore  all  at  the  dis 
posal  of  his  more  than  welcome  guests.  His  constant 
attendance  and  gallant  devotion  to  their  entertainment, 
no  less  than  his  unmistakable  enjoyment  of  their  visit, 
were  extremely  flattering  and  equally  charming  to  the 
unsuspecting  girl,  for  in  all  their  intercourse,  there 
was  not  the  least  approach  to  love-making.  And  not 
unmindful  of  Robert's  expressed  fears  upon  this  point, 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  .299 

in  all  her  letters  to  the  youth, — which  were  both  regu 
lar  and  frequent — accounts  of  the  good  times  she  was 
having  were  thoughtfully  interlarded  with  this  com 
forting  assurance. 

"I  know  you'll  be  relieved,  Rob,"  she  wrote  in  one, 
"to  know  that  you  were  mistaken  as  to  Gerald's  being 
in  love  with  me,  and  sorry  that  you  doubted  his  sin 
cerity  last  Summer.  I  know  you'll  never  do  him  such 
an  injustice  again,  but  instead,  feel  very  kindly  towards 
him  because  of  the  good  time  he's  giving  us.  His 
grateful  and  affectionate  devotion  to  Auntie  is  per 
fectly  lovely,  and  you  couldn't  help  admiring  him  for 
it,  just  as  /  do.  I  want  that  you  and  he  should  be 
friends,  always,  dearest,  for  I  shall  feel  under  great 
obligations  to  him  from  now  on." 

But  this  inspiriting  message — the  last  upon  the  sub 
ject — had  barely  reached  its  destination,  when  an  ap 
palling  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  the  faithful 
girl's  dreams;  for  Gerald,  now  too  deeply  infatuated 
for  longer  silence,  suddenly  assumed  the  role  of  lover 
so  impatiently  delayed,  and  laid  violent  siege  to  her 
heart;  taking  advantage  of  his  first  favoring  oppor 
tunity  alone  with  the  girl,  to  tell  her  of  his  love  and 
press  his  suit. 

It  was  an  entrancing  Summer  evening;  and  after  a 
late  dinner  at  one  of  the  brilliant  cafes  of  the  Palais 
Royal,  which  had  closed  a  day  of  strenuous  tripping 
about,  the  happy  trio  had  returned  to  the  apartment 
occupied  by  the  visitors  in  the  fashionable  Rue  de 


300  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Blanc,  and  settled  down  in  its  pretty  parlour  for  a 
quiet  evening  at  home.  Gerald,  lolling  in  indolent 
ease  at  one  end  of  a  luxurious  divan,  from  out  the 
airy  clouds  of  smoke  wreathing  upwards  from  the 
fragrant  Havana  at  which  he  lazily  puffed,  with  long 
ing  heart,  once  more  feverishly  drank  in  the  flower-like 
grace  and  beauty  of  the  lovely  girl  in  white,  carelessly 
reclining  at  its  other  end,  well  nigh  lost  to  view  amid 
the  array  of  rich,  delicate  cushions  surrounding  her; 
while  with  her  animated  young  face  aglow  with  pleas 
ure  and  enthusiasm,  she  entertained  and  amused  her 
auditors  with  an  extravagant,  girlish  rhapsody,  about 
dear,  delightful  Paris. 

As  she  finished,  her  ever  present  chaperon,  reading 
unerringly  the  impetuous  mood  of  her  nephew,  and 
feeling  the  time  to  be  both  ripe  and  most  auspicious 
for  a  climax,  excused  herself  for  awhile  with  the  plea 
of  'a  letter  to  your  Uncle  George  that  I  wish  Gerald 
to  post  when  he  goes  out' ;  and  retired  to  her  own 
room,  which  adjoined. 

The  door  had  not  more  than  closed  upon  her,  than 
the  young  man,  brisk  as  a  flea,  had  straightened  up, 
dropped  his  unfinished  cigar  upon  the  Sevres  receiver 
conveniently  placed  upon  an  inlaid  tabouret  close  by, 
and  drawing  very  near  to  Alice,  asked — with  a  most 
insinuating  sweetness  of  tone  and  look — "How  would 
you  like  to  live  in  Paris  always,  Cousin  mine  ?"  adding 
quickly,  "with  me,  I  mean."  And  before  the  girl  had 
recovered  from  her  astonishment  enough  to  answer, 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  301 

he  had  slipped  an  arm  lovingly  about  her,  taken  her 
hand  in  his  disengaged  one,  and  with  most  fervid 
utterance,  was  pouring  into  her  unwilling  ear,  the 
same  sweet  story,  the  same  entrancing  fairy  tale  which, 
from  the  days  of  Adam  on,  men  have  been  seductively 
whispering  into  the  expectant  and  unexpectant  ears  of 
:ountless  Eves,  in  every  clime  and  lingo. 

"O,  please  stop,  Gerald!"  entreated  the  blushing 
girl,  endeavoring  to  free  herself.  "I  can't  listen  to 
such  things  from  you;  really  I  can't!" 

"Why  not,  sweetheart?"  queried  the  lover;  in  a 
surprised  and  much  disappointed  tone,  though  with- 
3ut  releasing  her. 

"Because — because — why — I'm  engaged  already, 
Gerald";  she  stammered,  confusedly. 

"Engaged  already?"  repeated  the  man  in  dismay. 
'O  don't  ask  me  to  believe  anything  so  cruelly  dis 
appointing  as  that,  dearest!" 

"I'm  very  sorry  if  it's  a  disappointment  to  you, 
Gerald,  but  it's  a  fact,  nevertheless;  so  please  let  me 

?0." 

"Who  to,  Alice,  and  since  when?"  asked  the  lover, 
with  great  importunity;  though  still  making  no  move 
to  comply  with  the  twice  repeated  request  of  the  girl 
to  be  released. 

"Why  to  Rob  Manning;  and  since — always!"  was 
the  frank,  though  bashful  reply,  "and  I  supposed  you 
knew,  Gerald." 

"Knew!   Why   I   never   had   the   faintest   suspicion 


302  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

even  of  such  a  thing,  sweetheart!"  returned  the  man 
with  a  well  feigned  show  of  surprise  at  the  informa 
tion."  But  that's  only  a  make-believe  engagement 
anyway ;  a  sort  of  playing  at  love" ;  he  continue* 
lightly;  as  though  the  thought  were  a  relief. 

"No  it  isn't,  Gerald;  it's  really  and  truly;  honest  i 
is" ;  persisted  the  girl,  in  answer  to  his  doubting  look 
"Of  course,  it  hasn't  been  announced  yet,  and  I'm  no 
wearing  a  ring;  but  Rob  and  I  are  pledged  to  eacl 
other,  just  the  same." 

"Such  pledges  as  that  aren't  binding  though,  Alice 
and  I'd  be  very  sorry  to  see  you  make  a  marriage  o 
that  sort!"  Continuing,  with  an  almost  fatherly  ten 
derness  and  concern,  "for  your  happiness  is  too  dea 
to  me,  little  one.  I've  known  so  many  of  these  baby 
love  unions,"  he  went  on,  "and  they're  always  failures 
you'd  be  sure  to  be  unhappy,  Alice." 

"O,  no  we  wouldn't,  Gerald" ;  contradicted  the  girl 
sweetly,  though  with  unquestionable  certainty;  "fo 
we — er — love  each  other!"  she  blurted  out;  while  a: 
embarrassed  blush  at  once  suffused  her  cheek  at  th 
delicate  confession. 

"But  that's  not  the  safe  kind  of  love  to  marry  foi 
Alice";  then  argued  the  wily  lover,  earnestly.  "Mar 
riage  is  a  very  serious  matter,  you  must  know,  am 
needs  a  mature,  deep  love  to  carry  one  through  it 
trials  and  perplexities.  Now  Rob's  only  a  boy,  an 
can't  possibly  feel  for  you  such  a  love  as  mine." 

"And  I'm  only  a  girl,  Gerald ;  but  I  know  that  Rob' 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  303 

love  is  mature  enough,  and  deep  enough  to  carry  me 
through  anything";  returned  the  loyal  girl,  with  proud 
est  confidence  in  her  tones. 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  let  hirn  have  you,  Alice, 
anyway!"  the  persistent  lover  now  boldly  proclaimed. 
"Not  after  I've  waited  for  you  for  years!" 

"Rob  has  too,  Gerald." 

"Why  I've  loved  you  ever  since  you  were  in  pina 
fores,  Alice";  her  companion  went  on;  with  much  of 
elasticity  in  the  statement,  as  we  know. 

"So  has  Rob";  responded  the  girl,  softly. 

"But,  sweetheart,  I  can't  give  you  up!" — this  de 
spairingly,  and  with  every  evidence  of  the  deepest 
feeling.  "Ever  since  those  supremely  happy  weeks 
which  we  spent  together  last  year,  my  thoughts  of 
you  have  been  my  life!  sleeping  or  waking,  you  have 
never  been  absent  from  them,  for  my  day-dreams  have 
been  castles  for  you,  my  night-dreams  visions  of  you ; 
and  I  have  felt  so  hopeful,  even  sure  of  winning  you. 
I  want  you  so ;  I  need  you  so ;  so  much  more  than  Rob 
does,  for  he  has  his  mother,  while  I,  like  yourself,  have 
no  one !"  he  breathed,  pathetically.  "Oh,  can't  you  feel 
for  my  loneliness,  darling  ?  Be  mine,  Alice !"  the  man 
pleaded.  "Come  to  me!  give  me  your  heart;  your 
love ;  your  life ;  and  take  in  return  a  heart  which  never 
has  nor  ever  will  beat  for  any  but  you ;  a  love,  death 
less,  a  life,  laid  at  your  feet,  to  worship  you,  to  serve 
you!  O,  say  that  you  are  mine,  sweetheart,"  he  im 
plored,  "and  I  am  yours  to  command,  now  and  for 
ever!'' 


• 
304  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

With  a  well  developed  sense  of  the  proprieties,  th 
young  girl  had  made  repeated  attempts — though  in 
effectual — to  check  the  man's  rapid  flow  of  lovinj 
words,  and  free  herself  from  his  detaining  embrace 
and  as  his  hold  upon  her  was  now  unconsciously  re 
laxed  a  little  while  he  half  paused  for  breath,  sh 
quickly  drew  from  out  his  encircling  arm,  and  brok 
in  sweetly  with,  "I  can't  do  as  you  ask,  Gerald,  for  m; 
heart  and  love  have  both  been  given  to  another,  an< 
my  life  pledged  to  him.  I  couldn't  go  back  on  m; 
promise;  why  it  would  kill  Rob  if  I  did,  and  I  don' 
want  to,  either ;  for  I've  dearly  loved  him  always;  in 
deed,  I  can't  remember  the  time  when  I — " 

"But  you'd  learn  to  love  me  just  as  deeply,  Alice" 
interrupted  the  wooer,  passionately;  "and  I'd  maki 
your  life  so  happy  that  you'd  forget  all  about  him  in  ; 
little  while." 

"No,  Gerald,"  instantly  returned  the  girl";  I  coul( 
never  forget,  or  learn  to  love  anyone  else,  so  long  a: 
there's  Rob.  And  I  am  so  sorry  that  this  has  happened 
for  it  really  makes  me  very  unhappy  to  say  no  to  you 
you've  been  so  kind,  and  I  like  and  admire  you  so  verj 
much.  O,  how  I  wish  I  hadn't  come  over!  then  al 
this  could  have  been  avoided!"  she  finished,  tremu 
lously. 

"No  it  wouldn't,  Darling,"  put  in  the  other,  still  a< 
lover-like;  for  I  should  have  come  to  you.  And  ] 
won't  give  you  up,  either !"  he  declared,  with  flatter 
ing  determination."  I  shall  make  you  take  advantage 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  305 

of  your  woman's  privilege  and  change  your  mind,  yet. 
I  shall  continue  to  live  upon  that  hope,  Alice,  any 
way." 

"Please  don't  do  that,  Gerald" ;  urged  the  girl ;  add 
ing  firmly  though  sweetly,  "for  it  would  mean  but 
another  disappointment  for  you.  Besides,  I  shall  not 
stay  here  any  longer  now ;  I  shall  speak  to  Auntie  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning  about  going  home." 

"And  spoil  her  visit,  Alice?"  asked  the  artful  man, 
reproachfully.  "Why  I  wouldn't  have  believed  that 
you  could  have  been  that  selfish." 

"Auntie  needn't  go,  Gerald ;  I  can  travel  alone.  But 
I'm  sure  it  wouldn't  be  right  for  me  to  continue  your 
guest  after  this" ;  declared  the  conscientious  girl.  Then 
suddenly  rising  and  bidding  him  a  most  unexpected 
and  hasty  good-night,  Alice  slipped  quickly  from  the 
room. 

Now  there  are  probably  as  many  and  diverse  types 
of  love — so  called — as  there  are  hearts  to  feel  it,  or 
motives  to  inspire  it ;  and  according  to  his  type,  Gerald 
Harding  perhaps,  at  this  time,  did  dearly  love  this  girl. 
But  he  even  more  dearly  loved  to  have  his  own  way; 
and  disappointed  at  her  point  blank  refusal,  he  was 
still  further  annoyed  and  extremely  irritated  by  her 
unceremonious  departure,  for  he  had  by  no  means 
finished  the  pressing  of  his  suit. 

"Hell  and  damnation!"  he  exclaimed  fiercely,  with 
an  angry  stamp  of  the  foot,  as  the  door  closed  behind 
her.  And  almost  upon  the  instant,  another  door — 


306  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

behind  which  was  the  divan  upon  which  the  two  had 
been  sitting — opened  slowly,  and  Mrs.  Nichols  re- 
entered  the  room,  bringing  with  her  the  pretext  letter. 

"Why  what  has  happened,  Gerald?"  she  asked, 
anxiously;  catching  the  man's  last  lurid  word  and 
noting  the  absence  of  her  niece. 

"Nothing,  only  that  I've  been  most  beautifully 
turned  down !"  growled  her  nephew,  with  vexation 
and  disgust. 

"Why,  Gerald?"  came  the  eager  question,  as  the 
woman  seated  herself  beside  him. 

"Says  she's  engaged  already." 

"To—" 

"Yes,  to  that  blamed  kid ;  the  devil  take  him !"  in 
terrupted  her  companion  hotly.  "I  wish  he  was  in 
purgatory  right  now!" 

"But  you  surely  aren't  going  to  be  discouraged  and 
give  up  at  first  refusal,  my  dear  boy!"  burst  out  his 
aunt — at  once  alarmed  for  the  success  of  her  import 
ant  project.  "I  never  would  have  imagined  you  so 
faint-hearted  as  that.  Besides,  to  say  no  and  mean  yes 
comes  natural  to  women,  you  know.  Why  I  really 
thought  you  loved  the  girl  more  than  that,  Gerald, 
and  had  your  heart  more  set  upon  winning  her";  she 
went  on;  as  though  not  only  surprised,  but  greatly 
disappointed  at  the  outcome.  "Otherwise,  I  should  not 
have  put  myself  about  as  I  have  to  make  this  most 
excellent  opportunity  for  you,  at  such  an  inconvenient 
time." 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  307 

"My  heart's  just  that  set  upon  winning  her,  that 
I'm  getting  'daffy;'  'dippy  under  the  lid'  about  the 
girl ;"  returned  the  young  man  gloomily.  "If  we  could 
keep  her  here,  I'd  have  some  hopes  of  bringing  her 
around  yet;  but  she  won't  stay;  says  she's  going  to 
talk  to  you  tomorrow  about  going  home;  that  it 
wouldn't  be  right  for  her  to  remain  with  me  any 
longer  now,  and  all  that  sort  of  infernal  tommy-rot. 
It  won't  do  the  little  jade  any  good  to  run  away, 
though,  damn  it!"  he  went  on  savagely,  "for  I'll  fol 
low  her,  blest  if  I  don't!  and  pester  her,  'till  she  says 
yes  just  to  get  rid  of  me." 

"That  would  be  time  and  money  both  wasted,  my 
dear  boy";  put  in  the  other,  with  most  disheartening 
finality;  "for  your  case  is  absolutely  hopeless  anywhere 
but  here  and  now.  Your  chances  would  be  nil  once 
she's  on  the  other  side  again  and  with  Rob;  as  I  told 
you  distinctly,  before." 

"Then  what  do  you  let  her  go  for";  broke  in  the 
other,  pettishly.  "Keep  her  here!" 

"You  talk  like  a  child,  Gerald !"  exclaimed  his  aunt, 
impatiently.  "I  can't  keep  her  against  her  will,  can 
I?" 

"No,  but  I'm  sure  you  could  persuade  her  to  finish 
out  her  visit  if  you  tried,  and  if  you'd  only  intercede 
for  me,  she'd  become  more  amenable  to  reason." 

"Now  my  dear  boy,  stop  right  there" ;  commanded 
Mrs.  Nichols;  with  a  silencing  gesture.  "You  know 
very  well  that  I'm  wholly  out  of  the  affair;  I  told 
you  so  when  I  first  arrived." 


308  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"But  the  case  is  different  now,"  •  argued  Gerald, 
"and  I  need  your  help.  She'll  listen  to  you,  and  your 
opinion  will  have  great  weight  with  her  for  she's  so 
fond  of  you.  Do  this  much  more  for  me,  Auntie," — 
coaxingly — "and  you'll  never  regret  it.  You  will  if 
you  don't  though,"  he  warned,  "for  if  I  can't  have 
Alice,  I'll  make  some  disgraceful  mesalliance  or  other, 
you  may  be  sure  of  that,  and  you'll  blame  yourself 
as  long  as  you  live  for  not  having  saved  me  from  it 
when  you  could." 

Seeming  to  deliberate  upon  her  nephew's  emphatic 
request  and  threat,  Mrs.  Nichols  delayed  to  answer; 
but  after  an  interval,  with  a  slowly  heaved  sigh  as  of 
reluctant  resignation,  she  replied,  "Well,  my  dear  boy, 
I  presume  I  shall  have  to  humor  you  as  of  old,  al 
though  my  heart  greatly  misgives  me.  I'll  see  what 
I  can  do  to  keep  her  for  you,  but  I  don't  want  you 
to  feel  too  sanguine  of  results,  Gerald,  for  I  know 
that  I  am  setting  myself  a  very  difficult  task.  In 
spite  of  her  charming  amiability,  Alice  has  a  wonder 
fully  decided  won't  of  her  own,  in  any  question  of  sup 
posed  right  and  wrong!' 

"Whether  you  succeed  or  not,  Auntie,"  was  the 
man's  grateful  reply,  "your  willingness  and  kind  at 
tempt,  will  but  add  just  that  much  more  to  my  already 
deep  sense  of  obligation  to  you." 

Now,  to  impress  her  nephew  with  a  'deep  sense  of 
obligation/  was  a  highly  important  part  of  Mrs. 
Nichols'  scheme;  hence  her  premeditated  waiting  for 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  309 

his  appeal,  before  promising  that  assistance  which  she 
well  knew  would  be  needed;  for  that  Alice  would  re 
fuse  him,  was  with  her  a  moral  certainty.  She  had 
played  her  cards  well,  and  Gerald  had  'tumbled' 
beautifully.  Still,  it  was  with  a  very  heavy  heart  that 
she  now  left  him  and  retired  to  a  troubled  night,  in 
anticipation  of  an  irksome,  unhappier  morrow.  A 
self-imposed  morrow,  it  is  true;  yet,  although  we  may 
criticise,  we  may  not  wholly  condemn.  We  cannot 
restrain  a  pang  of  pity — tinged  even  with  admiration 
—for  the  harassed,  little  plotter,  rent  'twixt  conflict 
ing  loves  and  duties,  and  who  for  the  sake  of  the 
stronger,  was  now  doing  wilful  violence  to  the  in 
grained  straight-forwardness  of  her  nature. 

Yet  while  not  a  woman  to  turn  back  once  having 
put  her  hand  to  the  plow,  the  heart-stirring  interview 
with  Alice  on  the  dreaded  morrow,  came  very  near 
to  proving  a  death  blow  to  the  sublime  determination 
of  this  devoted  wife.  Long  and  earnestly  did  she 
labor  to  persuade  the  girl  to  change  her  mind  and  pro 
long  her  visit;  appealing  successively  to  a  natural 
youthful  love  of  enjoyment,  and  her  characteristic  un 
selfishness;  "for  of  course,  if  you  persist  in  going, 
dear,  I  shall  go  with  you" ;  she  at  length  told  the  girl ; 
decidedly  though  not  unkindly. 

But  her  niece  was  obdurate ;  insisting  that  it  could 
be  no  further  enjoyment  for  her  to  remain  longer,  and 
wrong,  she  felt,  as  well;  "though  I  should  of  course, 
be  very  sorry  to  shorten  your  visit,  Auntie";  she  de- 


310  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

clared  regretfully;  "and  there  isn't  the  least  need  of 
your  going,  either,  for  I  can  get  through  all  right 
alone." 

Finding  argument  along  these  lines  unavailing,  Mrs. 
Nichols,  now  desperate,  came  out  flat-footed ;  and  with 
an  eloquence  and  earnestness  worthy  of  a  greater  sin 
cerity,  pleaded  her  nephew's  cause;  expatiating  upon 
a  host  of  good  qualities  of  which  she  claimed  him  to 
be  possessed,  and  concluding  her  far-fetched  eulogy 
with,  "he's  so  desperately  in  love  with  you,  Alice,  that 
I'm  afraid  your  refusal  will  affect  him  very  seriously; 
he  seems  to  worship  the  very  ground  you  walk  on; 
and  he's  had  his  heart  set  upon  winning  you  for  years, 
it  seems.  He  declares  he  will  not  give  you  up,  either. 
And  you'd  be  very  happy  with  him  I  think,  dearie" ; 
she  went  on,  in  a  confident  tone.  Adroitly  slipping  in, 
"It  would  make  your  Aunt  Alice  equally  happy,  too, 
to  see  her  two  loved  children  united;  for  I've  long 
wished  that  such  a  thing  might  be." 

"It's  very  flattering  to  know  that  Gerald  loves  me 
so,  Auntie,  indeed  it  is; — Rob  does  too — said  Alice, 
proudly ;  "and  if  there  had  been  no  one  else,  I  believe 
I  could  have  returned  it,  for  he's  been  so  very  kind. 
And  then  you've  always  been  so  good  to  me,  that  if  s 
hard,  much  harder  than  I  can  make  you  understand, 
I  fear,  to  refuse  to  do  as  you  both  wish";  continued 
the  grateful  girl.  "But  Auntie,  I  love  Rob  so,  that 
I  can't  give  him  up;  indeed  I  can't;  ask  anything  of 
me  but  that!"  she  pleaded.  Her  now  brimming  eyes 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  311 

and  faltering  voice,  her  appealing,  sweet  young  face 
so  clouded  with  sadness,  moving  the  heart  of  her  dis 
tracted  aunt  so  deeply,  filling  it  with  such  remorse 
for  the  cruel  sacrifice  for  which  she  had  asked,  that 
for  the  moment,  love  and  sympathy  for  the  unhappy 
girl  triumphed  over  her  great  anxiety  for  the  future 
well-being  of  her  unfortunate  husband;  and  with 
answering  tears  dimming  her  own  eyes,  Mrs.  Nichols 
pressed  the  girl  affectionately  to  her  heart  as  she  re 
plied,  soothingly,  "There ;  there ;  don't  cry !  don't  cry, 
Alice!  Why  not  for  world's  would  I  have  you  give 
Rob  up  for  Gerald,  if  your  heart's  so  bound  up  in  him 
as  all  that!  I  supposed  you  had  both  outgrown  your 
childish  fondness  for  each  other,  and  didn't  dream  of 
such  a  thing  as  your  being  engaged.  We'll  go  home 
at  once,  Honey,"  she  promised,  cheeringly ;  "and  what 
a  happy  surprise  it  will  be  for  your  Uncle  George  to 
see  his  dear  little  girl  again  so  soon." 

But  as  'twere  by  magic,  the  mere  speaking  of  her 
husband's  name  in  such  a  connection,  flashed  before 
the  mind  of  the  repenting  woman  an  alarming  realiza 
tion  of  the  failure  of  her  important  mission ;  and  with 
it  came  the  harrowing  vision  of  a  broken  down,  de 
spondent  old  man  at  home,  bravely  though  vainly 
struggling  against  overwhelming  odds  to  reinstate 
himself,  and  be  prepared  to  give  a  good  account  of 
his  stewardship.  Instantly,  the  stronger  love  again 
predominated,  deciding  her,  once  for  all,  to  the  play 
ing  of  her  trump  card — a  merciless  playing,  if  need 


312  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

be — thus  far  held  in  reserve,  and  to  the  last,  with  the 
hope  that  it  might  not  be  needed.  "Yes,  your  Uncle 
is  very  fond  of  you,  Alice" ;  she  resumed  impressively ; 
with  scarce  a  second's  break  in  the  conversation,  al 
though  in  a  changed,  strange  voice.  "There's  nothing 
he  wouldn't  do  for  you ;  /  wonder  if  you  love  him  as 
much?"  she  questioned  slowly,  yet  with  an  intense 
eagerness.  And  placing  her  hands  heavily  upon  the 
shoulders  of  her  companion  as  she  spoke,  Mrs.  Nichols 
studied  the  expression  of  her  face  almost  ravenously 
with  searching  eyes.  Eyes  which  seemed  to  burrow 
into  the  very  farthest  depths  of  the  frank,  expressive 
one's  before  her,  as  though  to  find  there  at  least  the 
shadow  of  the  girl's  inmost  thoughts. 

"Why  Auntie!"  was  the  quick,  whole-souled  re 
joinder;  "I  couldn't  love  Uncle  George  more  if  he 
was  my  father;  he's  been  so  lovely  to  me  always,  and 
then  think  of  all  he  did  for  dear  Papa;  why  I'd  give 
my  life  for  him  if — '; 

"Then  save  him,  Alice,  by  marrying  Gerald !"  broke 
in  the  older  woman,  with  imploring  desperation. 

"Save  him! — by  marrying  Gerald!"  repeated  the 
puzzled  girl  in  surprise.  "I — I — don't  understand, 
Auntie!" 

"To  be  sure  not,  dearie"!  returned  the  other  toler 
antly;  now  tenderly  folding  an  arm  about  the  girl. 
"So  let's  sit  right  down  here  together  while  I  explain. 
Now  listen!"  And  with  obediently  attentive,  though 
it  must  be  confessed,  dense  ears, — for  business  details 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  313 

were  as  Hindustanee  to  her  and  speculation  an  utterly 
unknown  science — Alice  Nichols  listened  to  an  unin 
telligible,  distinctively  feminine  jumble,  about  'bulls' 
and  'bears'  and  'plunging'  and  'selling  short  May 
wheat'  and  'your  Uncle  George'  and  'a  corner'  and 
'Gerald'  and  '$75,000'  and  'a  crash/  et  cetera;  expres 
sions  of  which  the  narrator  herself  but  dimly  compre 
hended  the  meaning,  but  which  she  recalled  from  her 
husband's  confession  to  her  of  his  great  losses;  the 
whole  topped  off  with  another  frantic  appeal  to  "marry 
Gerald  and  save  your  Uncle!" 

"But  I  don't  think  I  quite  know  yet,  please, 
Auntie" ;  faltered  the  girl,  with  a  still  more  mystified 
look  as  the  exciting  story  was  concluded.  "Why  I 
didn't  know  that  they  had  any  shorter  wheat  in  May 
then  any  other  time  of  the  year.  And  what  did  they 
have  animals  for  where  they  sold  it?  Was  it  out  at 
the  stock  yards?" 

"O,  no,  no,  my  dear  child,  it  wasn't  out  at  the 
stock  yards !"  corrected  Mrs.  Nichols  quickly ;  with  a 
faint  smile.  "The  'bulls'  and  'bears'  aren't  really  ani 
mals,  you  know ;  they're  men ;  they  must  be,  for  I  dis 
tinctly  remember  your  uncle's  saying  that  he  had 
always  stood  in  with  the  'bears,'  although,  now  I  come 
to  think  of  it,  whenever  his  mind  wandered  during  his 
long  illness,  he  would  grieve  about  having  been  'gored 
and  trampled  to  death  by  the  'bulls.'  But  those  are 
only  nicknames,  I  take  it,  for  the  men  who  manage 
the  thing.  It  seems  to  have  happened  on  a  certain  cor- 


314  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ner  down  on  La  Salle  Street;  in  some  big  warehouse, 
I  suppose,  for  it  must  take  an  immense  building,  you 
know,  Alice,  to  hold  such  great  quantities  of  wheat; 
even  if  it  was  short." 

"Ye — es,  I'm  sure  it  must" ;  assented  the  girl,  rather 
vaguely,  though  evidently  much  impressed  by  the 
statement.  "But  what  corner  was  it,  Auntie?  And 
what  did  Uncle  George  'crash'  into  when  he  fell? 
Was  that  what  made  him  so  sick,  last  year?" 

"Yes,  and  is  fast  killing  him!"  and  the  woman 
paused  for  a  moment,  quite  overcome  at  the  remem 
brance. 

"But  you  don't  seem  to  understand  exactly  yet, 
Alice";  she  began  presently.  "He  didn't  fall  from 
anywhere ;  'plunging'  means  buying  a  zvhole  lot  more 
wheat  than  you've  got  money  to  pay  for;  and  must 
be  a  very  bad  thing  to  do.  But  I  confess,  Alice,  it's 
far  from  clear  to  me,  either ;  for  you  know  I'm  just  as 
ignorant  of  business  details  as  you  are.  Your  uncle 
has  always  attended  to  everything  of  the  kind,  and 
I've  never  bothered  my  head  to  grasp  them.  All  I 
do  know,  dearie  is  that  he  used  all  of  his  own  money, 
and  then  took  a  whole  lot  of  Gerald's  and  used  that, 
too,  and  that  it's  all  gone."  The  pitiful  wail  with 
which  the  closing  statement  was  concluded  being  very 
touching. 

"But  how  would  my  marrying  Gerald  bring  any  of 
it  back,  Auntie?"  asked  the  girl,  innocently. 

"It  wouldn't  bring  any  of  it  back,  dearie,  but  your 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  315 

fortune  would  surely  reconcile  Gerald  to  the  loss  of 
his  own,  and  keep  him  from  making  trouble  for  your 
Uncle  George.  Of  course,  he  shouldn't  have  used 
Gerald's  money  at  all,  you  know;  but  he  somehow 
expected  to  make  barrels  more  out  of  it,  and  Gejald, 
of  course,  would  have  gotten  every  penny  of  the  in 
crease.  Other  people  wouldn't  believe  that  though, 
and  he  could  be  sent  to  prison  for  it  if  it  was  known," 
she  finished;  visibly  shuddering  at  the  horrifying 
thought. 

"But  Gerald  surely  wouldn't  tell  of  it  and  make  such 
trouble  as  that  for  our  uncle,  Auntie!  why  I  couldn't 
like  him  a  bit  any  more  if  I  thought  he  could  be  so 
cruel  and  ungrateful!"  returned  the  girl,  excitedly. 
"I'm  sure  /  wouldn't  if  it  was  my  money;  I  should 
know  he  didn't  do  it  purposely.  And  I  know  Rob 
wouldn't,  either,  if  it  was  his." 

"But  men  aren't  like  women,  dearie" ;  replied  the 
other;  ignoring  the  proud  reference  to  Rob's  mag 
nanimity  ;  "they're  selfish  naturally.  Not  that  Gerald's 
any  more  so  than  the  average  man,  probably,"  she  has 
tened  to  add,  "but  you  see  he's  grown  up  with  expec 
tations,  and  accustomed  to  the  comforts  and  even  lux 
uries  of  life  which  it  would  be  very  hard  for  him  to 
do  without,  with  his  cultured  tastes.  Besides,  no  one 
could  blame  him  for  demanding  what  was  lawfully 
his  own.  In  less  than  two  years  from  now,  his  for 
tune's  due  him,  and  naturally  he's  banking  on  it.  It 
will  be  out  of  the  question  for  it  to  be  gotten  together ; 


316  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

then  comes  exposure,  disgrace,  a  felon's  cell,  and  a 
broken  heart  for  your  noble  uncle.  O,  Alice,  save 
him" !  she  now  pleaded,  anew. 

"I'd  be  both  proud  and  happy  to  save  him,  Auntie" ; 
was  the  warm-hearted  answer ;  "but  it  won't  be  neces 
sary  for  me  to  marry  Gerald  to  do  it.  Uncle  George 
can  have  all  he  needs  of  my  fortune  to  pay  him  with, 
even  if  it  takes  the  whole  of  it.  I  know  Rob  won't 
care  if  I  haven't  a  penny ;  and  I'll  tell  Uncle  George  so 
the  minute  we  get  home.  So  don't  worry  any  more, 
Auntie  dear,"  she  concluded  comfortingly ;  patting  her 
aunt  affectionately  upon  the  cheek  as  she  spoke. 

"My  dear  child,"  now  replied  the  elder,  with  mani 
fest  appreciation,  "that's  certainly  a  very  sweet  and 
lovely  spirit,  but  you  couldn't  help  your  uncle  in  that 
way,  for  he  would  go  to  prison,  to  a  gallows  in  fact, 
before  that  he  would  touch  a  penny  of  yours.  And 
you  must  not  let  him  know  that  I've  told  you  of  his 
predicament,  Alice";  she  cautioned,  quickly.  "Nor 
any  one  else  either;  not  even  Gerald  if  you  should 
decide  to  marry  him;  remember  that,  Alice;  never! 
Oh,  why  can't  you  make  up  your  mind  to  do  as  I  wish, 
dearie?"  she  went  on  again,  appealingly;  "it's  really, 
the  only  way  in  which  you  can  help  your  uncle,  and 
Gerald's  not  distasteful  to  you  in  any  way,  I  can  see 
that.  You  know  what  an  agreeable  companion  he  is, 
and  he's  handsome,  clever,  talented,  industrious,  and 
loves  you  to  distraction.  You'd  be  proud  of  him,  Alice, 
and  happy  with  him ;  I'm  sure  you  would." 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  317 

"But  I  don't  love  him,  Auntie,  and  one  should  marry 
only  for  love." 

"You'd  quickly  learn  to,  though,  dearie";  persisted 
her  aunt,  confidently;  "and  Gerald's  so  sure  of  win 
ning  your  love,  that  he's  willing,  glad  to  give  all  at 
first.  Many  girls  marry  on  that  basis,  Alice ;  I'm  sure 
/  had  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  loving  your 
uncle  when  he  asked  me  to  be  his  wife,  and  see  what 
a  perfect  success  our  union  has  been." 

A  moment  of  anxious  waiting  for  a  reply  to  this 
last  argument,  and  then  the  sweet  girl  spoke,  softly 
and  slowly,  and  very  wistfully,  and  said:  "Mamma 
Manning  has  told  me  of  how  fondly  she,  and  my  own 
dear  mother,  always  wished  and  hoped  that  Rob  and 
I  would  love  and  marry." 

And  to  this  staggering  allusion  there  was  also  no 
immediate  response;  for  the  conscience  of  the  elder 
smote  hard  within  her  at  this  gentle  reminder  of  the 
well-known  fact.  Heart  and  voice  alike,  for  the  mo 
ment,  failing,  once  more  her  splendid  resolution  fal 
tered;  and  when,  by  a  truly  great  effort,  she  had  at 
length  silenced  the  inward  monitor,  and  with  a  mild 
persuasiveness  had  gone  on  to  say,  "True,  dearie, 
and  yet  I  can  easily  believe  that  your  own  dear  mother 
would  want  her  little  girl  to  be  very  sensitive  to  the 
call  of  duty,  as  well  as  very  zealous  in  the  performance 
of  it" ;  even  as  she  craftily  delivered  herself  of  the 
honeyed  words,  the  recreant,  scheming  woman  was 
riven  by  a  shrinking  and  cowering  of  soul  before  the 


318  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

accusing  thought,  "who  am  7  to  prate  of  duty?  How 
am  I  fulfilling  mine  towards  this  lone,  motherless 
child?" 

"But  what  about,  Rob,  Auntie?  And  my  love  for 
him  and  my  promise?"  now  argued  the  troubled  girl, 
with  much  concern.  "I  want  to  do  everything  for 
Uncle  George  that  I  can  honorably,  you  must  know 
that ;  but  don't  you  think  it  would  be  wrong  for  me  to 
go  back  on  my  word  ?  Rob  might  never  get  over  it ; 
in  fact,  I  don't  think  he  ever  would,  Auntie,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  think  of  him,  too.  Hard 
as  it  would  be  for  me,  it  would  be  still  harder  for  him, 
for  while  /  should  have  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  I 
had  saved  uncle  and  pleased  you  and  Gerald,  he  would 
have  absolutely  nothing  to  comfort  him." 

"It  would  be  a  disappointment  to  Rob,  of  course, 
dearie,"  admitted  the  other,  graciously.  "But  then 
you  know  marrying  one's  first  love  is  the  exception 
in  life,  not  the  rule;  so  that  he  would  be  but  one  of 
the  great  majority,  after  all."  And  following  an  al 
most  imperceptible  pause,  she  resumed,  with  almost 
cruel  carelessness,  "There's  little  danger  of  its  break 
ing  his  heart,  though,  Alice,  for  young  hearts  are 
plastic,  and  Rob's  young,  in  fact  a  mere  boy ;  and  a 
boy's  heart  is  very  easily  mended.  He'd  soon  forget 
all  about  you,  no  doubt,  and  be  loving  somebody  else 
as  much,  or  even  more,  than  he  now  thinks  he  does  my 
sweet  girl." 

"Then  I  can't  do  it,  Auntie !"  now  exclaimed  the  tor- 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  319 

tured  girl,  as  she  burst  into  tears;  "for  just  the  mere 
thought  of  Rob's  loving  anyone  else,  makes  me  turn 
oh!  so  sick  and  faint"!  And  burying  the  agonized 
face  from  which  every  vestige  of  color  had  fled,  in 
her  hands,  the  over-wrought  girl  here  gave  way  to  an 
uncontrollable  fit  of  most  violent  weeping. 

Fearful  of  weakening,  Mrs.  Nichols  now  forcibly 
steeled  her  heart  against  the  great  pity  for  her  niece 
and  the  almost  over-mastering  promptings  to  ex 
pressions  of  sympathy,  which  surged  within  it;  and 
when  at  last  the  crying  had  ceased,  and  the  bowed  head 
once  more  been  raised, — the  pent-up  feelings  some 
what  relieved  by  the  indulgence —  she  said  wearily, 
not  so  much  in  a  chiding  as  in  an  utterly  despondent 
and  pitifully  impotent  tone,  "Well,  Alice,  there's  noth 
ing  more  that  I  can  say  to  you ;  no  other  or  stronger 
appeal  that  I  can  make.  I  confess  I  had  hoped  for 
better  results,  for  I  had  really  believed  that  you  loved 
your  uncle,  and  that  in  such  a  desperate  crisis  as  this, 
that  love  would  be  great  enough  to  outweigh  every 
other  and  selfish  consideration.  But  I  was  mistaken, 
it  seems,  and  there  is  now  nothing  before  us  but  ruin 
and  disgrace"  Her  despairing  sigh  was  truly  heart 
rending  to  hear.  Then,  a  full  and  maddening  realiza 
tion  of  the  hopelessness  of  the  desperate  situation 
seeming  to  fasten  itself  upon  her,  the  bitterly  disap 
pointed  woman  added  quickly,  as  a  relentless,  parting 
shot,  "While  I  could  wish  sincerely  that  it  might  be 
so,  Alice,  it  would  be  farcical  for  me  to  express  the 


320  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

hope  that  you  and  Rob  may  be  happy  together,  for 
I  shall  still  believe  you  to  be  possessed  of  too  much 
heart  for  that,  when  the  disgraced,  heart-broken  uncle 
whom  you  might  have  saved,  shall  be  ending  his  days 
in  Joliet." 

But  the  random  shot  had  gone  straight  home,  and 
pierced  to  the  very  core,  the  tender,  loving  heart  of 
the  now  conquered  girl.  "Don't!  O,  don't,  speak  of 
such  a  fate  as  that  for  my  dear,  good  uncle!"  she 
protested,  frantically,  as  the  other  ceased  speaking. 
"I'll  save  him !  indeed  I  will,  Auntie !  I'll  marry  Ger 
ald  no  matter  whose  heart  it  might  break !"  adding  as 
an  after-thought,  "that  is,  if  he  still  wants  me  to." 

"Of  course  he  wants  you  to,  dearie!"  put  in  the 
astonished  but  relieved  woman,  heartily;  her  face — 
from  which  years  seemed  to  have  already  dropped,  to 
gether  with  the  deep  carved  lines  put  there  by  crush 
ing  anxiety — all  aglow,  and  at  once  irradiated  by 
the  happiest  of  smiles.  And  as  she  folded  her  niece 
to  her  bosom  and  kissed  her  again  and  again,  she  con 
tinued,  tremulously,  "May  God  reward  you  as  you  de 
serve  for  this  sweet  sacrifice,  my  dear,  noble  girl !  Oh, 
that  you  could  look  into  your  Auntie's  heart  and  see 
the  relief  and  joy  with  which  you  have  filled  it" ! 
After  which,  looking  hurriedly  at  her  watch,  "What! 
ten-thirty"?  she  ejaculated  in  surprise.  "Why  how 
long  we  have  been  talking !  Run  to  your  room  quickly, 
child,  and  rest  a  bit  before  you  dress;  your  Cousin 
Gerald  will  be  here  shortly  to  take  us  to  breakfast." 


LOVE  VERSUS  DUTY  321 

When  Alice  Nichols  re-entered  the  little  parlor  an 
hour  later — or  thereabout, — aside  from  an  unusual 
paleness,  her  lovely  face  bore  no  trace  of  the  terrible 
ordeal  through  which  she  had  been  passing.  It  had 
undergone  a  noticeable  change,  but  it  was  no  less 
beautiful;  rather  was  it  the  more  so,  although  its  gay, 
girlish,  yet  always  ethereal  beauty,  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  taken  on  a  full  — albeit  a  premature — ripeness, 
unnatural  in  one  of  her  years  and  inexperience.  The 
youthful,  eager  expectancy  seemed  somehow  to  have 
died  away  and  been  supplanted  by  a  settled  calm. 
Seemingly  a  contented  one,  but  nevertheless  pathetic 
in  one  so  young.  Yet  from  out  the  angelic  eyes,  and 
beautifying  the  entire  countenance,  shone  a  sustaining 
exaltation;  for  in  the  interim,  like  the  women  at  the 
Sepulcher,  she  had  sought  and  'seen  the  Lord/ 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  MARRIAGE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

"  'No,  mother,  she  has  lied  to  me;  played  me 
false;  made  me  forever  a  laughing-stock  among 
my  fellows;  and  I  want  never  to  hear  her  hated 
name  again.' " 

Next  day  the  brilliant  sparkle  of  a  new  and  costly 
gem  upon  the  finger  of  the  girl,  told  of  a  second  pro 
posal  and  an  acceptance ;  and  when,  but  a  month  later, 
this  same  jeweled  ring  was  seen  guarding  a  heavy, 
plain  gold  band,  one  knew  that  happenings  had  been 
rapid  since  that  fateful  hour  of  seemingly  invincible 
necessity,  in  which  our  dear,  young  friend  had  so 
nobly  said  to  self,  'Get  thee  behind  me'! 

Yet  the  seeming  undue  haste  had  been  satisfactory 
to  them  all.  The  proud  and  happy  lover  had  been 
most  impatient  to  possess  his  bride.  The  duenna, 
anxious  for  release  from  chaperonage,  that  she  might 
return  to  husband  and  home,  and  doubly  anxious  also. 
for  the  tying  of  the  'Gordian  Knot/  which,  with  re 
lieving  certainty,  would  transfer  to  the  hand,  the  bird 
yet  fluttering  in  at  least  partial,  and  therefore  danger 
ous  liberty  in  the  bush. 

'If  'twere  well  when  it  were  done,  then  'twere  well 
it  were  done  quickly/  was  the  admonishing  thought 
kept  ever  in  view  by  her;  and  although  at  times,  'tis 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          323 

true,  a  disquieting  apprenhension  as  to  the  ultimate 
and  absolute  wellness  of  the  proceeding  would  pro- 
vokingly  'butt  in' — as  she  declared  impatiently  to  her 
self — to  disturb  her  serenity,  it  had  always  been  quick 
ly  banished  by  a  pitiful,  home  vision;  and  the  plea  of 
the  lover  for  haste  had  therefore  found  in  her  a  ready 
and  powerful  advocate. 

As  for  the  girl,  since  it  had  been  to  please  others, 
not  herself,  that  she  had  consented  to  take  the  irrevo 
cable  step,  her  attitude  had  been  passive  to  a  degree. 
Capitulation,  had  been  for  her  the  important  part  of 
the  transaction;  the  time  of  final  and  complete  sur 
render,  be  it  earlier  or  later,  but  a  mere  bagatelle; 
hence,  their  wishes  in  the  matter  had  been  hers. 

With  means  at  her  command,  and  the  merchandise 
of  the  world  spread  out  before  them  in  that  world's 
Emporium,  it  had  been  a  simple  enough  undertaking 
to  procure  a  suitably  elaborate  trousseau  at  short 
notice;  and  following  the  required  civil  marriage  of 
the  previous  day,  on  a  sultry  August  noon,  a  richly 
andi  fashionably  dressed,  though  very  sedate  little 
bridal  party  of  three,  repaired  by  appointment  to  the 
American  Chapel;  and  there,  shamefully  cheated  out 
of  all  the  accompanying  fuss  and  feathers  that  are  the 
inalienable  birthright  of  every  young,  beautiful  and 
wealthy  girl,  at  her  wedding, — so  inexpressibly  dear  to 
her  heart  at  the  time,  so  rich  in  lingering,  happy  mem 
ories, — Alice  Nichols  had  been  given  away  by  the 
very  aunt  under  whose  auspices  the  brilliant,  joyous 


324  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

wedding  of  her  late  mother  had  come  off  a  generation 
before;  and  in  deference  to  a  romantic  wish  of  the 
bride  to  spend  her  honeymoon  in  one  of  the  countries 
visited  and  most  enjoyed  by  her  loved  parents  upon 
their  wedding  journey,  the  new-made  pair  had  at  once 
set  out  for  Switzerland. 

Unspeakably  relieved  and  deeply  thankful  for  the  so 
speedy  and  successful  termination  of  her  diplomatic 
mission,  Mrs.  Nichols,  on  the  following  day,  bade  a 
glad  goodbye  to  Paris,  and  set  her  face  once  more 
homewards;  a-flutter  with  impatience  to  carry  to  her 
embarrassed  husband  full  details  of  the  final  climax 
to  what, — so  she  significantly  told  him — she  consid 
ered  "a  most  fortunate  attachment." 

Now,  Alice — and  with  reason — had  justly  pleaded 
with  her  aunt  to  be  allowed  to  make  an  exception  in 
Robert's  case,  and  divulge  the  reason  for  her  most 
extraordinary  action  in  renouncing  him.  "I  can't  have 
him  and  Mamma  Manning  think  me  fickle,  faithless, 
Auntie";  she  had  tearfully  urged.  And  to  pacify  the 
girl,  consent  had  been  reluctantly  given ;  with  the  foxy 
stipulation,  however,  that  the  information  should  come 
through  Mrs.  Nichols  herself.  "I  don't  blame  you 
in  the  least,  Alice,  for  feeling  as  you  do  about  it,"  she 
told  the  girl,  indulgently,  "and  for  your  sake  it's  but 
right  that  Robert  should  know.  I  believe  that  we  can 
trust  him  with  our  tremendously  vital  secret.  But  it 
would  surely  be  a  very  hard  and  trying  ordeal  for  you 
to  write  him,  dearie ;  beside,  now  that  you  are  Gerald's 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          325 

fiancee,  you  two  should  carry  on  no  further  corres 
pondence,  whatever,  you  know.  Just  leave  the  matter 
to  me,  honey ;  I'll  write  and  explain  the  whole  situa 
tion  to  Mrs.  Manning  at  once." 

With  unquestioning  confidence,  Alice  had  then  com 
menced  a  nervously  agitated  counting  of  the  days 
which  must  elapse  before  the  expected  answer  might 
arrive.  Even  up  to  the  very  hour  of  her  marraige  had 
the  trustful  girl  comforted  herself  with  the  sweet  hope 
of  receiving  some  word  of  forgiveness ;  some  encour 
aging,  soothing  approval  of  her  course,  even, — she  at 
times  dared  to  hope, — or  at  the  least,  some  little  part 
ing  message  of  good  wishes  and  good  will,  for  all  of 
which  she  most  hungrily  longed.  But,  of  course,  none 
such  had  ever  come;  and  expectation  and  hope  finally 
dying  out,  O,  how  the  young  heart  had  sickened;  op 
pressed  with  its  most  desolating  sense  of  utter  loneli 
ness,  because  of  this  estrangement  from  her  dearest 
and  best  beloved  friends. 

Yet  with  a  truly  martyr-like  fortitude  and  endur 
ance,  the  noble  girl  had  kept  the  secret  of  her  bitter 
disappointment  deep  hidden  in  her  own  heart, 
strengthened  always  by  the  approving  consciousness 
of  a  loving  duty  accepted  and  discharged,  and  had 
gone  to  her  loveless  marriage  with  apparent  cheerful 
ness;  determined  to  acquit  herself  creditably  in  the 
new,  complex  and  delicate  relationship  upon  which 
she  was  about  to  enter.  Hopefully,  also,  had  she  gone, 
and  without  misgivings;  for  surely,  if  seemingly  irre- 


326  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

proachable  habits  in  a  lover,  open  and  adoring  admir 
ation,  tenderest  solicitude,  and  constantly,  the  most 
fervid  declarations  of  love,  were  safe  and  reasonable 
evidences  upon  which  to  build,  then  scarce  might  a 
girl  ever  have  gone  to  the  arms  of  a  husband  with 
such  confident  hope  for  the  happy  married  life,  which 
must,  it  would  seem,  follow  their  union ;  Gerald  having 
always  been  pleasing  to  her  as  a  friend,  it  will  be  re 
membered.  Thus,  save  for  the  first  and  awful  wrench 
to  this  sensitive,  loving  nature,  one  might  have  felt 
her  case  to  call  for  but  little,  if  any  of  sympathy ;  not 
any  of  pity. 

Upon  his  aunt,  too,  had  the  behavior  of  the  young 
man  created  a  like  favorable  impression,  particularly 
gratifying  to  her  in  view  of  the  former  doubts  as 
to  his  worthiness;  his  love  for  Alice  seeming  so  deep 
and  true  as  to  completely  over-shadow  self.  "If  it 
only  lasts,"  she  would  muse  thoughtfully,  at  times, 
"Gerald  will  surely  have  been  transformed  by  the 
mighty  power  of  love."  On  the  eve  of  his  wedding 
she  had  counseled  the  prospective  bridegroom  with 
great  and  touching  earnestness,  and  told  him  of  her 
high  hopes  for  happiness  in  his  married  life ;  particu 
larly  urging  the  importance  of  unselfishness  in  his  new 
relation. 

"It  is  by  the  exercise  of  that  virtue  alone,  Gerald, 
that  you  will  win  and  keep  the  love  of  your  wife,  but 
believe  me,  the  game  will  be  well  worth  the  candle. 
Oh,  be  kind  and  good  to  her  always,  my  dear  boy," 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          327 

she  importuned  him,  tearfully ;  "for  if  ever  a  man  had 
a  beauty  and  a  saint  as  well  for  a  wife,  it  will  surely 
be  you.  I  confess  there  was  a  time  when  I  thought 
her  far  too  good  for  you,  and  hesitated  to  use  my  in 
fluence  in  your  behalf;  but  I  have  been  well  satisfied 
and  much  pleased  with  appearances  since  we  came 
over,  and  if  there  is  no  change  upon  your  part,  I  can 
foresee  for  you  and  her  a  truly  model  life  together. 
Don't  disappoint  me,  my  dear  boy,  don't  disappoint 
me" !  she  pleaded ;  "for  if  you  should  make  her  life 
unhappy  and  break  her  heart,  as  your  father  did  your 
poor  mother's, — and  to  be  frank  with  you,  Gerald, 
you  are  wonderfully  like  him  in  many  ways, — I  could 
never  forgive  you,  or  myself,  for  having  helped  you  to 
win  her.  You've  certainly  drawn  the  capital  prize, 
Gerald;  now  guard  it  well,  by  guarding  against  self 
ishness;  which — pardon  my  plain  speaking, — has  al 
ways  been  your  besetting  sin.  You  love  Alice  very 
deeply,  do  you  not,  my  dear  boy"  ? 

"Love  is  a  feeble  word,  Auntie";  replied  the  young 
man,  soberly.  And  with  his  usual  extravagant  em 
phasis  went  on,  "I  adore  her !  I  worship  her.  As  I've 
repeatedly  told  her,  my  life  is  laid  at  her  feet.  I  real 
ize,  fully  I  think,  what  a  prize  I've  drawn,  and  further 
more,  I  realize  also  that  but  for  your  effective  inter 
vention  I  should  never  have  won  her.  What  can  I 
ever  do  to  repay  you,  Auntie"? 

"My  help  has  been  gladly  given,  and  has  been  purely 
a  labor  of  love,  my  dear  boy,"  returned  the  unsus- 


328  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

pected  schemer,  blandly — love  for  whom  it  was  of 
course  inexpedient  to  state ;  the  man  was  free  to  draw 
what  inferences  he  chose — "and  I  want  no  pay  other 
than  that  you  be  good  and  true  to  my  dear  girl;  that 
is  all  I  ask  of  you,  Gerald";  she  finished,  with  eyes 
that  glistened  with  sincere  emotion.  And  then,  with 
a  seemingly  playful  though  intended  threatening,  "If 
you  don't,  and  /  hear  of  it,  look  out  for  squalls." 

From  the  foregoing  interview  we  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  unmistakably  deep  love  of  Mrs.  Nichols  for 
her  orphaned  charge,  as  well  as  the  intense  anxiety 
felt  for  her  welfare.  Yet,  how  contradictory  is  human 
nature ;  and  'what  a  tangled  web  we  weave,  when  first 
we  practice  to  deceive/ 

Surely  never  was  this  axiomatic  truth  more  clearly 
illustrated  than  in  the  case  of  this  misguided  woman 
at  this  time;  for  in  the  unworthy  carrying  out  of  her 
unworthy  project,  she  had  been  obliged  to  practice 
upon  her  loved  niece  the  very  crudest  deception.  From 
the  time  her  promise  of  a  full  and  immediate  explan 
ation  to  Mrs.  Manning  of  the  girl's  peculiar  position 
and  dutiful  sacrifice  had  been  made,  certain  of  discov 
ery  and  fearful  of  the  miscarrying  of  her  plans,  should 
Alice  continue  to  receive  her  absent  lover's  letters,  she 
had  felt  it  necessary  to  keep  from  the  girl  several  of 
his  last  to  arrive ;  since  not  until  the  tying  of  Hymen's 
knot  should  have  made  a  dreaded,  fatal  change  of  mind 
impossible,  did  she  purpose  writing  the  promised  ex 
planation. 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          329 

"I  just  can't  have  everything  spoiled  by  them  at 
this  juncture";  was  the  way  she  reasoned  regarding 
Robert  and  his  mother.  "Of  course,  they'd  write  her 
that  'tis  an  absurdly  Quixotic  idea,  and  do  everything 
in  their  power  to  persuade  her  to  retract;  it's  but 
natural  that  they  should.  As  for  the  complete  revela 
tion  for  which  the  girl  has  stipulated,  why  that's  a 
very  serious  matter,  to  be  taken  under  advisement;  I 
ought  never  to  have  made  so  sweeping  a  promise.  It's 
quite  out  of  the  question,  though,  for  me  to  inform 
them  how  matters  stand  now;  I've  simply  got  to  keep 
them  in  the  dark  until  everything's  over,  that's  certain. 
Oh,  well,  what  they  don't  know  won't  hurt  them ;  bad 
news  travels  fast  enough  at  its  slowest,  anyway." 
Thus  did  the  hitherto  irreproachable  Mrs.  Nichols 
cajole  herself  comfortingly,  in  extenuation  of  her  un 
pardonable  delinquency. 

So  it  was,  that  not  until  after  the  return  to  her 
apartments  on  the  day  of  that  extraordinary  wedding, 
after  having — with  intense  relief  and  satisfaction, — 
seen  the  parties  to  it  started  upon  the  perilous  journey 
of  married  life  and  safely  on  their  travels,  did  she  set 
about  the  performing  of  her  most  momentous  and  deli 
cate  task.  But,  as  the  result  of  repeated  and  imper 
ative  silencings,  the  whisperings  of  the  'still,  small 
voice'  had  by  that  time  become  so  faint,  that  the  last 
important  act  upon  French  soil  of  this  ordinarily  most 
veracious  and  considerate  woman,  had  been  the  pen- 


330  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ning  of  the  following  cruelly  insinuating,  misleading, 
unsympathetic,  and  calamitous  letter: 

"Paris— 
"My  Dear  Mrs.  Manning:"  (she  wrote.) 

"Any  written  communication  from  me,  would  come 
to  you  somewhat  in  the  nature  of  a  mild  surprise,  I 
know.  But  this  one  will  be  even  a  trifle  startling,  I 
fancy,  since  it  carries  word  of  the  marriage,  at  noon 
today,  of  Alice,  to  my  nephew,  Gerald  Harding;  this 
being  the  outcome  of  a  very  deep  attachment  which 
sprung  up  between  the  two,  it  seems, — although  un 
known  to  me  at  the  time, — during  the  young  man's 
unexpected  visit  to  us  last  summer;  when  they  were 
much  together,  if  you  remember.  The  happy  couple 
are  now  journeying  towards  Switzerland,  where  the 
honeymoon  is  to  bq  passed. 

Alice  had  thought  to  write  you  herself;  but  every 
thing  came  about  so  suddenly,  and  the  lovers  being 
impatient  for  a  speedy  marriage,  there  was  so  much 
to  be  planned  for  and  arranged  in  such  a  very  little 
while,  that  the  dear  girl  really  seemed  to  find  no  time 
for  any  outside  matters.  Naturally,  too,  the  little 
understanding  which, — so  she  has  told  me — existed 
between  your  son  and  herself,  made  her  shrink  from 
the  unpleasant  duty ;  so  my  offer,  finally,  to  relieve  her 
of  it,  was  glady  seized  upon ;  hence  this  letter.  A  sit 
uation  of  that  sort  cannot  but  be  exceedingly  trying, 
we  know,  to  one  so  sensitive  and  honorably  inclined 
as  she.  Yet,  when  it  is  a  case  of  heart  answering  to 


A  MARRIAGE—ITS  CONSEQUENCES          331 

heart,  I  really  think  that  much  allowance  should  be 
made  for  a  girl  who  merely  avails  herself  of  the  ad 
mitted  privilege  of  her  sex,  and  changes  her  mind ; 
don't  you? 

The  affair  will  be  a  bit  of  a  disappointment  to 
Robert,  I  presume,  but  I  trust  that  both  he  and  you 
will  coincide  with  me  in  the  above  tolerant  opinion. 

Alice  is  well,  and  made  a  wonderfully  handsome, 
charming  bride.  She  and  Gerald  seem  so  particularly 
well  fitted  for  each  other,  that  I  anticipate  for  them 
an  exceptionally  happy  life  together;  and  I  feel  sure 
that  you  will  both  join  me  in  the  hope  that  these  my 
sanguine  expectations,  may  be  most  abundantly  real 
ized. 

With  kind  regards,  very  sincerely, 

ALICE  A.  NICHOLS/' 

"P.  S. — Announcement  in  regular  form 
accompanies  this  under  separate  cover." 

Truly,  the  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword ;  for  never 
was  there  Damascus  blade  so  cleverly  fashioned,  so 
finely  tempered,  that  by  a  single  stroke,  however  skill 
fully  wielded,  could  cleave  and  lay  apart  the  heart  of 
an  intended  victim,  so  completely,  as  was  the  loving, 
utterly  devoted  heart  of  Robert  Manning,  by  these 
few,  comprehensive,  brutal  words  of  deadliest  intent; 
and  which  seemed  so  incongruously  to  have  fallen 
from  the  fragile  point  of  a  golden  pen. 

The  cruel  stroke  had  descended  upon  him  without 
other  preparation  than  a  few  weeks  of  suddenly  in- 


332  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

terrupted  correspondence,  for  which  he  had  at  first, 
impatiently  and  fretfully  held  Uncle  Sam  responsible. 
Then  the  fear  of  illness  or  accident  had  crept  in  to 
worry  and  alarm;  but,  strange  though  it  may  appear, 
the  youth  had  experienced  no  warning  premonition 
as  to  the  true  cause  for  the  girl's  unexplained  silence. 
Nor  was  it  so  strange,  either;  for  as  he  read  her 
recent — and  always  delightful — letters  over  and  over 
and  over  again  each  day,  did  he  not  find  them  always 
overflowing  with  sweetest,  most  fervent  expressions  of 
love  and  loyalty,  together  with  those  thoughtful,  satis 
fying  and  comforting  accounts  as  to  Gerald's  attitude 
towards  her?  And  to  doubt  her  sincerity,  would  no 
more  have  occurred  to  the  trustful  youth,  than  to  doubt 
the  self-evident  fact  of  living. 

We  purposely  refrain  from  the  rehearsing  of  any 
specific  or  vivid  details  of  the  effects  of  the  awful 
shock  of  Mrs.  Nichols'  announcement,  upon  the  youth ; 
for  even  though  time  and  space  permitted,  and  lan 
guage  could  be  found  or  words  coined,  adequate  to 
depict  the  mortal  agony  of  soul  through  which  he 
passed,  the  sacredness  of  such  emotions  would  forbid, 
while  their  harrowing  nature  would  make  them  but  an 
unkind  tax  upon  the  sympathy  of  the  reader.  When 
we  call  to  mind  the  fact,  however,  that  Robert  Man 
ning's  love  for  Alice  Nichols  had  been  coeval  with 
memory,  deep  as  feeling,  and  sweeter  to  him  than  life, 
before  the  eyes  of  our  minds,  at  least  in  silhouette, 
there  must  appear  a  picture  of  the  awful  havoc 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          333 

wrought  in  his  constant  young  heart,  by  such  a  tearing 
out  of  it  of  the  idol  always  enshrined  there. 

Stunned  and  dazed  by  the  blow,  the  full  effects  of 
its  crushing  force  were  not  at  first  so  directly  appar 
ent.  But  as  the  melancholy  days  went  by,  and  the 
indisputably  damaging  testimony  contained  in  the  fatal 
letter  was  over  and  over  dwelt  upon,  digested,  and 
compared  with  the  countless  loving, — but  now,  evi 
dently  perfidious, — professions  of  the  girl,  both  verb 
ally  and  in  writing,  Robert  was  seen  to  change.  There 
was  no  longer  a  giving  way  to  outbursts  of  emotion, 
nor  was  there  any  physical  breakdown  or  mental  col 
lapse  ;  his  wounded  pride,  strong  constitution  and 
strong  will,  prevented  either  of  these  latter.  But  his 
heart  seemed  to  petrify ;  to  become  as  stone.  Inherit 
ing  an  unusually  strong,  self-reliant  nature,  the  youth 
now  appeared  to  wrap  himself  about  as  with  a  mantle 
in  these  characteristics;  flouting  even  his  mother's 
sympathy,  and  instantly  angered  when  she — whose 
loyal  heart  could  not  lose  its  faith  in  Gertie's  child, 
even  while  striving  to  bring  comfort  to  her  own, — 
would  plead  for  a  more  charitable  opinion  of  the  of 
fending  girl. 

"There's  something  more  to  this  than  we  know, 
Robert;  more  than  appears  upon  the  surface,"  she 
would  tenderly  urge.  "I  know  the  girl  too  well  to 
believe  her  wilfully  capable  of  such  an  action.  It  has 
been  Mrs.  Nichols'  doings,  you  may  be  sure  of  that; 
the  woman's  a  born  match-maker,  and  has  always  been 


334  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

extravagantly  fond  of  her  nephew  and  indulgent  to  his 
whims.  Suspend  judgment,  my  son,  until  the  mat 
ter's  cleared  up,  as  I  feel  sure  it  will  be,  some  day." 

But  each  appeal  of  the  sort  had  but  irritated  the 
more,  and  brought  forth  the  truly  unanswerable  fling : 
"She  married  him,  didn't  she?  And  no  one  can  com 
pel  a  girl  to  marry  a  man  against  her  will.  No, 
mother;  I  can  see  now  how  she  has  been  deceiving 
me  all  along;  she  has  always  stood  up  for  Gerald, 
whenever  occasion  offered;  even  in  her  last,  hypo 
critical  letter" ;  he  would  sneer,  with  the  nausea  of  dis 
gust.  "And  why  ?  Because  she  was  in  love  with  him  ! 
And  why  was  she  in  love  with  him?  Because  of  his 
greater  wealth,  of  course!  Have  we  not  been  told 
that  this  attachment  began  last  summer?  The  almighty 
dollar  had  already  bought  her  faithless  heart  for  him, 
even  while  she  was  vowing  undying  love  for  me.  No, 
mother,  she  has  lied  to  me !  played  me  false !  made  me 
forever  a  laughing  stock  among  my  fellows !  and  I 
want  never  to  hear  her  hated  name  again!  if  you  have 
any  love  for  me,  you  will  cease  to  mention  it  in  my 
presence" !  he  finally  commanded. 

And  from  that  day,  the  sweet  name  which  had  hith 
erto  been  one  to  conjure  with  in  that  household,  was 
heard  there  no  more.  Reminders  of  the  girl  were  re 
moved  from  sight  by  the  mother,  all  tokens  destroyed 
by  the  son;  so  bitter  was  his  feeling.  And  with  this 
bitterness  of  feeling  Robert  became  also  selfish  in  his 
sorrow,  forgetful  of  the  fact,  that  to  his  loving  mother 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          335 

the  disappointment  was  scarcely  second  to  his  own, 
while,  with  the  added  burden  that  his  well  known,  even 
though  unadmitted  sufferings  entailed,  her  distress, 
differing  from  his  own  in  nature  though  it  was,  was 
probably  no  less  poignant. 

To  gratify  his  wish  for  the  uninterrupted  pursuit  of 
his  law  studies,  so  anxious  was  he  to  finish  in  the 
shortest  possible  time,  the  unselfish  mother  had  will 
ingly  agreed  to  remain  in  town  that  entire  Summer; 
and  impelled  and  cheered  by  an  ever  present  vision 
of  the  dear  one,  for  love  of  whom  his  ultra-ambitious 
efforts  were  being  put  forth,  the  eager,  young  student 
had  found  unmitigated  delight  in  an  almost  gluttonous 
cramming  of  himself  with  the  principles  and  precepts 
of  Blackstone.  But  now,  with  the  mainspring  of  mo 
tive  all  at  once  put  out  of  commission,  ambition  lag 
ged;  the  tasks  of  life,  which  had  formerly  been  as 
recreations,  became  intolerably  burdensome;  while  as 
for  pleasures,  it  no  longer  held  them. 

Thus,  unhappily  and  without  show  of  improvement, 
matters  had  gone  on  for  a  considerable  time ;  the  wor 
ried  mother  seeing  her  former  companionable,  sunny- 
tempered  boy,  becoming  daily  more  moody,  morose, 
cynical ;  his  faith  in  womankind  all  gone,  with  hard  and 
bitter  heart  and  words,  declaring  that  he  would  never 
trust  another,  would  never  marry.  And  with  a  now 
full,  and  at  last,  truly  sympathetic  understanding  of 
the  pangs  of  disappointed  love,  his  words  brought 
again  to  mind  a  time  and  scene  many  years  buried  in 


336  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

oblivion,  when  for  love  of  her,  another  young  man,  al 
though  in  a  far  different  spirit,  had  made  the  self 
same  vow,  which, — although  she  knew  it  not, — was 
still  unbroken.  For  their  paths  had  never  since 
crossed,  the  son,  because  of  her  rejection,  having 
changed  his  life  plans  and  settled  in  the  East,  where 
the  fond  parents  had  soon  followed  him.  Only  in 
print  had  she  for  years  heard  his  name  mentioned; 
but  wherever  a  great  calamity  had  called  for  unsel 
fish,  heroic  service, — a  Johnstown  flood,  a  New  Or 
leans  epidemic,  a  Charleston  earthquake,  a  railroad 
horror,  or  what  not, — always  in  the  van  of  ministering 
angels  to  appear  upon  the  scene,  she  had  been  proud 
to  read  the  name  of  Dr.  Harold  Lincoln  Gardiner ;  and 
she  could  but  hope  and  pray  that  Robert's  bitterness 
might  in  time  be  overcome,  when  his  disappointment 
should  haply  have  found  solace  in  a  like  unselfish 
sympathy  for  the  sorrows,  and  a  ministering  to  the 
sufferings  of  others. 

At  length,  hopeful  that  travel  and  a  temporary 
change  of  scene  and  surroundings  would  aid  in  re 
storing  her  son  to  normal, — for  although  the  Fall  sem 
ester  was  now  on,  Robert  would  absent  himself  from 
class  for  days  without  excuse,  and  shutting  himself  up 
alone  in  his  room  would  give  way  to  a  stubborn 
brooding  over  the  hardness  and  injustice  of  his  fate — 
the  fond  mother  had  proposed  to  him  a  respite  of  a 
few  months  from  study  and  a  trip  to  the  Western 
coast;  to  California. 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          337 

"Fred  has  been  wanting  you  to  come  for  so  long, 
you  know,  dear," — Fred  being  Fred  Elliott,  the  play 
mate  of  childhood  and  the  chum  of  after  years,  whose 
family  had  been  for  some  little  time  residents  of  the 
city  of  San  Francisco, — "and  this  is  just  the  very  time 
for  you  to  go;  you'll  have  a  splendid  visit,  and  come 
back  to  me  my  own  happy  boy  once  more,  I  know"! 
declared  the  mother,  confidently.  And  so,  after  much 
persuading,  though  with  no  show  of  interest  or  pleas 
ure  in  the  undertaking,  Robert  Manning  had  con 
sented  to  do  as  his  fond  and  anxious  mother  advised 
and  wished. 

Warmly  received  by  the  friends  whose  estimate  of 
him  had  always  been  most  flattering,  and  whose  sym 
pathy  was  equally  deep  and  sincere,  during  a  lengthy 
visit  the  youth  was  also  royally  entertained.  But  the 
gaping  wound  in  his  young  heart  healed  not  a  whit, 
although  a  necessarily  enforced  show  of  cheerfulness 
would  have  indicated  the  contrary.  Yet,  as  his  visit 
neared  its  end,  with  this  unhealed  wound  as  livid  as 
when  first  inflicted,  and  more  and  more  inflamed,  the 
thought  of  a  return  to  the  always  painfully  suggestive 
atmosphere  and  associations  of  his  home  city  became 
unutterly  obnoxious  to  the  youth ;  and  he  longed  for  a 
life  amid  the  distractions  and  possible  infection  of  the 
larger,  light-hearted  city,  sitting  so  majestically  upon 
the  picturesque  hills  that  bordered  the  Golden  Gate. 

But,  knowing  how  deep-seated  was  the  love  of  his 
mother  for  the  spot  to  which  her  heart  was  bound  by 


338  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

so  many  imperishable  ties,  Robert  for  a  season  could 
not  bring  himself  to  propose  the  change  of  residence 
for  which  he  longed.  Yet  always  as  he  asked  himself 
the  question,  'was  there  ever  a  time  when  my  welfare 
and  happiness  were  not  dearer  to  her  than  her  own?' 
there  was  but  one  answer  to  be  heard  to  the  preposter 
ous  query.  So  at  length,  the  proposition  had  been 
made ;  with  the  result  that  after  a  four  months'  separ 
ation — which  both  had  keenly  felt, — the  selfless  mother 
had  joined  him  in  the  city  of  his  choice. 

A  new  and  attractive  home  was  there  set  up  in  a 
cozy  flat  overlooking  the  beautiful  and  imposing  bay, 
whose  vast  expanse  of  sparkling  waters  had  more  than 
once  tempted  the  unhappy  youth  to  seek  surcease  from 
the  intolerable  burden  of  his  disordered  emotions, 
within  her  chilly  depths.  But,  as  the  graceful  waves 
of  the  mighty  ocean,  daily  washing  in  and  out  over  the 
sand-strewn  shores  upon  which  they  tarried,  left  a 
welcome  cleansing  and  refreshment  in  their  wake,  "so, 
in  time,"  dreamed  the  now  hopeful  mother,  "Lethe's 
waves,  by  a  merciful  washing  in  and  out  over  the 
wreck-strewn  shores  of  memory,  will  bring  refresh 
ment,  and  at  least  a  measure  of  easement,  to  the  nag 
ging  pain  in  my  poor  boy's  heart." 

The  catastrophe,  however,  had  brought  more  than 
a  change  of  residence  to  the  Manning's ;  it  had  brought 
also  a  change  in  Robert's  life  work.  Study,  which 
had  before  been  a  passion  with  him,  had  now  grown 
distasteful.  "I  simply  cannot  settle  down  to  it  again, 


A  MARRIAGE— ITS  CONSEQUENCES          339 

mother";  he  had  urged,  when  asking  for  his  parent's 
sanction  to  a  change.  "I  must  have  something  more 
immediately  distracting.  I  want  to  go  into  mercantile 
life.  Mr.  Elliott  has  influence,  you  know,  and  can  se 
cure  for  me  a  very  acceptable  position,  in  which  there 
will  be  good  opportunity  for  advancement  if  I  fill  the 
bill,  which  he  seems  to  have  no  fears  about  my  doing ; 
and  the  salary" — mentioning  the  amount — "is  certainly 
good  for  a  greenhorn.  Now  what  do  you  say,  mother 
dear"?  And  what  the  mother  said  may  be  gathered 
from  the  fact  that  Law  and  a  further  college  course, 
were  dropped,  and  the  son  had  instead  entered  upon 
the  duties  of  a  junior  clerkship  with  a  leading  com 
mercial  company. 

Although  now  unnaturally  subdued  and  repellently 
distant  in  manner,  one  might  have  felt  proud,  indeed, 
to  know  the  fine,  manly,  capable  looking  fellow  who, 
seated  at  a  desk  in  its  office,  industriously  pored  over 
the  confusing  array  of  figures  daily  placed  before  him, 
and  have  felt  equally  confident  of  his  making  good. 
And  one  who  knew  the  cause  of  this  unnaturalness, 
while  feeling  deeply  for  the  youth,  must  have  as  deep 
ly  regretted  that  they  dared  not  ask  him  for  a  few, 
comforting  words,  to  send  to  a  shamefully  misjudged, 
and  already,  needy  young  matron,  upon  the  other  side. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THREE  HAPPENINGS. 

"  'Great  Scott,  Sis,  she's  fainted!     Let's  get  her 
out  of   here   quick'!" 

It  is  the  half-filled  bottle,  and  the  head  with :  'Un 
furnished  Apartments  to  Let,'  that  make  ever  the 
most  to-do  about  discharging  their  scant  and  puny 
contents.  Also,  'talk's  cheap';  and  it  is  the  vacuous, 
hollow  heart,  that  is  ever  the  most  conspicuous  and 
vociferous  in  its  protestations  of  affection.  The  roar 
ing,  combustible  passion  which  burns  incessantly  at 
fever  heat,  soon  burns  itself  out.  The  inextinguish 
able,  smoldering  fire  of  true,  enduring  love,  emits  but 
occasional  assuring  flashes,  but  permeates  and  warms 
the  entire  heart;  making  it  literally  'too  full  for  utter 
ance';  unselfish  deeds,  not  idle  words,  are  its  lan 
guage.  Thus  it  is  not  always  the  most  impetuous  and 
ardent  wooer  whose  sentiment  is  the  truest  and  deep 
est,  but  Vicey  versey  and  the  same,'  to  quote  Sa- 
mantha  Allen. 

These  are  but  generalities,  however.  To  get  right 
down  to  personalities,  Gerald  Harding  had  not  been 
long  wed,  before  his  showy,  combustible  imitation  of 
love  had  burned  itself  out;  to  dying  embers  had  suc 
ceeded  a  splotch  of  cold,  gray  ash.  As  of  old,  from 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  341 

the  days  of  childish  indulgences  to  those  of  love's 
amours,  the  pleasure  of  the  chase  had  begun  to  wane 
with  capture  and  possession ;  and  the  surprised,  young 
wife  was  early  made  aware  of  the  change. 

In  their  journeyings,  the  beauty  and  charming  per 
sonality  of  the  sweet  bride  had  naturally  attracted 
notice,  and  at  times,  called  forth  evidences  of  that 
harmless  admiration  which  is  ever  beauty's  accepted 
tribute  from  the  world.  What  less  could  the  man  ex 
pect?  But  now  the  inate  selfishness  of  nature  which 
could  not  long  be  held  in  check,  began  cropping  out,  to 
show  itself  in  an  unreasoning  jealousy; — for  unpro 
voked,  unwarranted  jealousy  is  but  selfishness  gone  to 
seed.  The  opportunities  for  many  agreeable  associa 
tions  had  therefore  been  curtailed  and  their  enjoyment 
spoiled,  by  the  man's  open  and  even  rude  resentment 
of  any  courtesies  offered  to  his  wife ;  thereby  not  only 
humiliating  and  mortifying,  but  largely  depriving  her 
of  those  legitimate  social  pleasures  to  which  every 
woman  has  a  right. 

It  was  the  same  after  their  return  to  Paris.  Settled 
in  a  handsome  home  and  possessed  of  great  natural  at 
tractions,  Alice  had  been  quickly  surrounded  by  a 
circle  of  admiring  acquaintances,  from  among  whom  a 
choice  few  of  most  enjoyable  intimates  might  have 
been  culled ;  but  here,  too,  the  continual  and  contempti 
ble  jealousy  of  the  dog  in  the  manger  husband  inter 
fered.  Yet  although  the  honeymoon, — which  had  not 
been  all  honey,  it  will  be  seen, — had  in  this  respect  de- 


342  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

feated  the  expectations  of  our  deserving  young  friend, 
in  her  innocence,  the  girl  had  set  down  her  husband's 
unreasoning  jealousy  to  his  deep,  extravagant  love; 
and  had  therefore  found  it  in  her  heart  not  only  to 
overlook  and  forgive  the  unhappiness  which  his  many 
annoying  demonstrations  had  caused  her,  but  even  to 
strive  to  return  his  supposed  affection.  Not  that 
Robert  was  forgotten,  or  that  she  could  ever  feel  for 
any  other  that  worshipful,  self-effacing  love,  which  for 
him  had  been  born  with  her  and  would  ever  remain 
alive,  entombed  though  it  must  be  in  her  heart.  But 
the  same,  exalted  sense  of  devotion  to  a  supposed  duty 
which  had  led  to  relinquishment,  also  set  clearly  before 
this  conscientious  young  matron,  the  right  of  her  hus 
band  to  a  sentiment  as  nearly  approximating  the  for 
mer  as  might  be  possible;  and  had  the  man  proven 
worthy,  gratitude  allied  to  this  high  sense  of  duty, 
would  have  at  length  inspired  her  with  an  abiding 
affection,  scarce  lacking  the  fervor  of  that  lifelong 
love. 

For  Gerald  was  now  her  all,  it  must  be  remembered ; 
every  other  tie  having  been  severed,  her  bridges  all 
burned.  Only  in  her  married  life  could  happiness 
henceforth  be  hoped  for;  and  it  was  therefore  with 
alarm  that  Alice  Nichols  began  to  see  and  to  feel  evi 
dences  of  the  waning  of  her  husband's  impetuous  love. 

The  simple-minded  wife  then  took  to  upbraiding  her 
self;  certain  the  fault  must  lie  at  her  door  that  she 
was  becoming  less  attractive  to  him;  'although,  not 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  343 

even  for  Rob,  could  I  have  tried  harder  to  please' ;  she 
would  meditate  ruefully  upon  occasion.  Yet  to  win 
him  back  to  the  old,  sweet  ways,  now  became  a  passion 
with  her.  Her  daily  study  was  to  look  her  prettiest, 
to  be  her  sweetest.  His  wishes,  his  most  unreasoning 
whims  she  had  from  the  first  deferred  to;  now  they 
were  even  anticipated.  But  to  no  avail,  for  her  self- 
abnegation  was  but  a  casting  of  'pearls  before  swine' ; 
and  Gerald  Harding  was  just  the  breed  of  swine  to 
'trample  them  under  foot  and  turn  again  and  rend' 
her. 

.The  Cad!  Even  while  objecting  to  the  ordinary 
gentlemanly  civilities  being  paid  his  wife,  his  feet  were 
already  itching  for  a  return  to  the  primrose  path; 
whose  fascinations  were  far  more  alluring  to  his  de 
cadent  tastes,  than  the  legitimate  pleasures  of  a  virtu 
ous  married  life. 

For  Gerald  Harding' s  bachelor  habits  had  by  no 
means  been  the  spotless  ones  his  fond  aunt  imagined. 
During  her  short  stay  in  Paris,  he  had  in  the  main  kept 
aloof  from  his  every  day  associates,  as  they  had  been 
warned  to  keep  away  from  him;  and  appearances 
had  therefore  been  satisfactory,  as  she  had  told  him. 
But  now,  his  market  made,  his  aunt  no  longer  there  to 
catch  on,  his  utterly  unsophisticated  young  wife  most 
easy  to  deceive,  discretion  had  been  thrown  to  the 
winds,  and  his  handsomely  appointed  studio  in  the 
Boulevard  d' Atelier,  became  again  the  rendezvous  of 
a  set  impossible  of  presentation  to  a  wife. 


344  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Alice  had  come  upon  one  of  these  flashy,  much  be- 
jeweled  young  beauties  there  one  day,  stretched  out 
in  careless  abandon  in  a  reclining  chair,  contentedly 
puffing  at  a  cigarette.  This  was  but  a  few  months 
after  the  return  from  their  wedding  trip,  when  she 
had  dropped  in  at  the  studio  unexpectedly  to  while 
away  a  lonely  hour  in  her  husband's  company.  Gerald 
had  not  offered  to  introduce  the  girl,  but  at  dinner, 
had  taken  pains  to  inform  his  wife  that  she  was  a 
model,  posing  for  a  coming  cartoon. 

"Such  people  are  necessary  to  your  work  I  pre 
sume,  dear,"  replied  the  trustful  wife,  sweetly,  "but 
I  really  can't  help  wishing  that  they  weren't;  I  don't 
like  to  think  of  my  husband  being  associated  even 
professionally  with  any  one  so  bold  and  unlady-like 
looking." 

"One  of  the  necessary  munitions  of  war,  Alice"; 
returned  the  man,  nonchalantly;  adding,  "Art  isn't 
all  representations  of  angels  and  arch-angels,  white- 
robed  vestal  virgins,  and  their  uninteresting  ilk,  you 
must  know,  and  my  present  branch  in  particular  is 
not  exactly  a  camping  ground  for  saints  and  seraphs. 
Of  course,  I'm  aiming  and  working  toward  higher 
things,  but  I  know  perfectly  the  class  of  subjects 
necessary  to  my  work  now,"  he  continued  rather 
tartly,  "and  there's  no  need  of  your  giving  yourself 
any  concern,  whatever,  about  the  matter,  for  it's  out 
of  your  domain,  entirely.  Art  is  an  artist's  mistress; 
and  when  a  girl's  fool  enough  to  marry  one,  she  must 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  345 

expect  to  take  second  place ;  that's  all,  and  this  is 
perhaps  as  good  a  time  as  any  for  you  to  learn  it. 
And  what  is  more,  Alice,"  he  went  on,  "I  would 
prefer  that  you  kept  away  from  my  studio,  for  it 
interferes  with  my  work.  Breaks  in  upon  a  valuable 
train  of  thought,  or  else  scatters  a  bunch  of  record- 
breaking  mind  pictures,  like  as  not,  and  the  same 
inspiration  never  comes  to  a  fellow  again;  so  please 
don't  come  down  any  more." 

And  the  bitterly  disappointed  young  wife,  who 
could  have  hoped  her  company  to  have  even  proven 
an  'inspiration/  hurt,  both  by  his  words  and  manner, 
yet  with  no  thought  of  doubt  as  to  the  sincerity  of 
her  husband,  had  from  that  day  kept  away  as  re 
quested. 

It  was  not  very  long  afterward,  however,  that  she 
had  been  shocked  to  come  upon  Gerald  openly  driving 
with  the  same,  loud  creature  on  the  Bois,  one  after 
noon,  after  having  excused  himself  from  accompany 
ing  her — as  had  been  his  daily  custom  up  to  that  time 
— with  the  plea  of  'too  much  work  to  be  done' ;  and  as 
before,  there  had  been  a  plausible  excuse  for  the 
occurrence. 

"These  models  are  in  great  demand,"  he  explained 
that  evening,  'and  independent  as  hogs  on  ice'  in 
consequence;  have  to  handle  them  with  gloves  all 
the  time,  or  a  competitor's  got  them  before  you  can 
say  'Jack  Robinson.'  The  girl  hasn't  her  equal  on 
the  market  for  my  class  of  work,  she's  so  versatile; 


346  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

and  so  I  have  to  put  up  with  her  devilish,  impertinent 
airs,  and  humor  her  once  in  a  while.  Why  she  actu 
ally  threatened  to  quit  and  go  over  to  LeBarge,  this 
afternoon,  if  I  wouldn't  take  her  for  a  drive;  and  I 
can't  afford  to  lose  her.  I'd  rather  you  didn't  drive 
any  more  when  I'm  unable  to  go  with  you,  Alice,"  he 
put  in  foxily;  "It  doesn't  look  well  for  a  woman  to 
be  on  the  Bois  alone,  to  my  way  of  thinking,  and  I 
don't  care  to  have  my  wife  seen  there  without  me; 
an  afternoon  without  a  drive  occasionally  won't  kill 
you  I  guess,  anyway,"  he  concluded  shortly. 

But  why  multiply  exasperating  instances?  Why 
further  dwell  or  enlarge  upon  an  unpleasant  subject? 
This  was  but  one  of  many,  oft  recurring,  similar  tragic 
cases,  wherein  an  innocent,  trusting  girl,  a  selfish, 
heartless  man  of  the  world,  a  cruel,  faithless  husband, 
a  neglected,  unhappy  wife,  represent  the  dramatis 
personae.  Surely  the  adult  reader's  own  knowledge 
of  life  and  the  world — and  this  book  is  not  intended 
for  kindergartners — can  supply  the  many  omitted  de 
tails,  with  all  their  sad  concomitants;  not  forgetting 
even  that  especially  pitiable  one  in  this  case,  that 
Alice  Harding  was  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  and 
as  a  result  of  a  set  of  most  deplorable  circumstances, 
lonely  at  heart,  beyond  expression. 

Thus  passed  a  first,  and  indeed,  disappointing  year 
of  married  life  for  this  most  worthy  wife;  a  year  in 
which  a  degree  of  happiness,  at  least,  partially  com 
mensurate  with  her  great  sacrifice,  had  been  not  only 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  347 

hoped  for,  but  confidently  expected,  from  the  ex 
travagantly  flattering,  tender  way  in  which  she  had 
been  wooed  and  won.  But  which,  alas !  had  well  nigh 
crushed  out  hope,  and  banished  expectation. 

Then,  suddenly,  three  happenings,  unlocked  for  but 
vitally  important,  following  each  other  in  quick  suc 
cession,  had  broken  the  wearisome  and  worrisome 
monotony  of  Alice  Nichols'  life,  and  in  one  par 
ticular  at  least,  had  changed  its  course.  First,  their 
Uncle  George  had  died,  very  unexpectedly,  six 
months  before  an  accounting  must  be  made  to  his 
foster-son  and  nephew;  his  death,  no  doubt,  hastened 
by  chagrin  and  worry,  perhaps  even  by  fear.  Imme 
diately  upon  the  receipt  of  the  sad  news,  Gerald  had 
taken  a  flying  trip  to  America,  alone — a  voyage  at 
the  time  being  hardly  advisable  for  the  wife — to  look 
after  his  interests. 

Now  the  fellow's  fortune,  we  feel  loath  to  state, 
was  by  this  time  all  gone ;  for  during  the  short,  diplo 
matic  absence  of  his  wife  in  Europe  the  previous 
year,  Mr.  Nichols,  hardly  responsible  mentally  at  the 
time,  in  desperation  such  as  impels  a  drowning  man 
to  clutch  at  a  straw,  had  put  what  remained  of  it  from 
his  former  bad  investments,  into  another — to  his 
mind — alluring  'fly' ;  and  had  again  lost.  Lost  for 
himself,  as  well;  for  in  order  to  raise  the  necessary 
money  for  his  own  part  of  the  deal,  he  had  placed  a 
second  mortgage  upon  their  city  home,  which,  because 
of  the  dangers  of  travel,  he  had  persuaded  his  wife 


348  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  deed  to  him  before  going  away.  The  lifeless  re 
mains  of  the  man  had  no  sooner  been  buried,  than  the 
property — which  would  but  little  more  than  satisfy 
their  claims — had  been  seized  upon  by  the  mortgagees, 
rendering  Mrs.  Nichols  herself  homeless,  other  than 
her  distant  mountain  cottage,  and  penniless,  but  for  a 
paltry  insurance  policy  that  she  held.  There  was 
nothing  left  for  Gerald. 

And  now  the  utter  and  despicable  heartlessness  of 
the  man  became  apparent.  True,  he  had  been  hit 
hard,  and  the  proximity,  nay  the  possibility  even  of 
the  blow  having  been  undreamed  of,  had  of  course 
made  it  still  more  severe.  But  he  was  at  this  time  in 
the  very  prime  of  young  manhood  with  all  its  golden 
opportunities,  considered  master  of  a  profession  ca 
pable  of  yielding  both  fame  and  fortune,  and  through 
the  foresight  and  influence  of  his  devoted  aunt,  mar 
ried  to  an  heiress  as  well.  But  the  now  pitiable  posi 
tion  of  that  once  wealthy  aunt,  all  the  years  of  patient, 
loving  care  bestowed  upon  him  by  both  his  uncle  and 
herself,  and  her  last  good  offices  in  his  behalf,  were, 
all  lost  sight  of  by  Gerald.  He  raged  in  a  very  tem 
pest  of  disappointment  and  fury,  with  sympathy  or 
thought  for  none  but  self ;  his  conduct  in  this  extrem 
ity  proving  him  to  be,  indeed,  without  a  single  re 
deeming  trait. 

"After  the  villainous  way  in  which  I've  been  bun 
coed" — as  he  so  brutally  expressed  himself  to  the 
crushed  and  sorrowing  woman — upon  learning  of  his 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  349 

loss,  "you  might  be  very  thankful  that  the  Almighty 
didn't  spare  him  to  fall  into  my  clutches;  he'd  have 
paid  dear  for  his  damned  rascality  if  he  had,  relation 
or  no  relation !  As  for  Alice's  fortune,"  he  went  on, 
with  a  mocking  laugh,  in  answer  to  the  reminder  that 
it  would  compensate  for  the  loss  of  his  own,  "do  you 
take  me  for  such  an  infernal  fool  as  not  to  have  had 
that  too,  in  time?  In  the  name  of  the  Lord,  woman, 
what  do  you  suppose  I  married  the  little  simpleton 
for?  It's  very  evident  you  don't  know  your  precious 
nephew  yet!" 

And  with  no  feeling  of  concern  for  the  future  of 
his  unhappy  foster-mother,  Gerald  Harding  had  raced 
back  home,  to  make  the  life  of  his  long-suffering  wife 
even  more  miserably  wretched  than  it  had  been  before, 

It  was  during  her  husband's  brief  absence  in  Amer 
ica,  that  the  second  event  had  occurred,  the  results  of 
which  had  proven  for  a  time  a  veritable  oasis  in  Alice 
Harding's  desert  of  existence.  Now,  although  she 
had  not  inherited  the  artistic  talent  of  her  mother,  the 
same  deeply  appreciative  love  of  Art  was  hers,  and 
many  had  been  the  hours  and  occasions  since  her 
marriage,  in  which  her  lonely,  troubled  heart,  had 
found  solace  and  the  most  satisfying  companionship, 
in  its  uplifting,  and  to  her,  enrapturing  environment. 

One  day  at  the  Louvre — her  frequent  haunt — as 
she  sat,  oblivious  to  her  surroundings,  entranced  anew 
before  a  masterpiece  whose  wonders  and  beauties  she 
had  often  before  devoured,  a  couple,  bearing  both 


350  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

in  manner  and  appearance  all  the  unmistakable  ear 
marks  of  culture  and  refinement,  in  age  a  little  on 
the  hither  side  of  middle  life,  the  man,  uncommonly 
handsome  and  distinguished  looking,  the  woman, 
plainer,  had  approached  her;  and  with  the  natural 
grace  and  punctilious  deference  of  a  Frenchman, 
though  evidently  one  of  her  own  countrymen,  the  man 
had  addressed  her  thus.  "I  trust  you  will  pardon  our 
intrusion  upon  your  absorption,  Madam" — he  had 
quickly  noted  the  wedding  ring  upon  the  ungloved 
hand  which  held  her  catalogue — "but  that  you  are  of 
the  same  nationality  as  ourselves  is  apparent ;  are  you 
not  from  Denver,  Colorado,  may  I  ask?" 

"Formerly,"  replied  Alice,  with  the  unhesitating 
frankness  of  a  well-bred  young  woman  meeting  with 
well-bred  strangers;  "but  since  my  marriage,  Paris 
is  my  home.  I  was  born  and  brought  up  in  Denver, 
however." 

"We  felt  morally  certain  of  it" ;  now  put  in  the 
lady,  with  a  pleased  and  satisfied  air.  "We  have 
noticed  you  here  and  at  the  Luxumbourg  a  number 
of  times,  and  you  bear  such  a  very  striking  resemblance 
to  a  dear  friend  of  many  years  ago  at  home — a  Mrs. 
Clayton  Nichols — that  we  could  no  longer  resist  the 
temptation  to  speak  and  inquire  if  you  were  not 
related  to  her;  a  descendant,  perhaps." 

"My  own,  dear  mother,"  answered  the  other  feel 
ingly;  "and  surely  it  is  a  treat  and  joy  to  meet  any 
old  friends  of  hers.  Whom  have  I  the  pleasure  of 
addressing?"  she  asked,  with  a  cordial  smile. 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  351 

The  couple  were  even  then  presenting  their  cards, 
and  as  they  did  so,  the  gentleman  remarked,  "Our 
names  are  probably  not  familiar,  for  we  have  made 
our  home  upon  this  side  since  before  you  were  born; 
but  we  knew  your  parents  very  well  indeed,  in  those 
long1  past  and  exceedingly  happy  days  when  we  were 
all  young  folks  together." 

"Your  names  are  by  no  means  unfamiliar  to  me," 
returned  Alice,  as  she  read  the  inscriptions  on  the 
engraved  cards.  And  now  offering  her  hand  in  the 
most  friendly  manner,  she  continued,  "Nor  are  your 
faces  unfamiliar,  either,  although  I  could  not  exactly 
place  you  at  first.  My  dear  mother  always  had 
photos  of  you  among  those  of  her  most  dearly  re 
membered  friends,  and  has  often  told  me,  Mr.  Lind 
say,  of  what  a  famous  painter  you  had  become.  She 
and  Papa  were  both  always  very  proud  to  claim 
friendship  with  you." 

"Their  memories  have  always  been  as  dear  to  me, 
as  well" ;  replied  our  old  friend  Jack,  with  a  gratified 
smile  at  the  flattering  and  welcome  intelligence; — for 
he  it  was,  and  Hattie,  his  devoted  sister.  "But  from 
the  tense  in  which  you  speak  of  them,"  he  went  on  to 
add,  in  a  tone  of  eagerly  interested  questioning,  "I 
fear  you  have  lost  them." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  answered  the  lonely  woman, — 
with  even  at  that  late  date,  an  involuntary  show  of 
emotion — "it  was  my  sad  misfortune  to  have  them 
both  taken  from  me  six  years  ago,  and  under  extreme 
ly  painful  circumstances." 


352  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"We  can  feel  for  you  then,"  rejoined  Miss  Lind 
say,  tenderly,  "for  we  have  passed  through  a  like  be 
reavement  ourselves.  Have  you  been  long  in  Paris?" 
she  asked.  "And  who  is  it  our  happy  privilege  to 
have  met?" 

"Mrs.  Gerald  Harding";  replied  Alice.  "I  seem  to 
be  without  a  card,"  she  went  on; — vainly  searching 
through  a  richly  jeweled  hand-bag  for  her  case, 
while  she  spoke — and  as  the  man  noted  down  the 
address  that  she  proceeded  to  give,  she  finished,  "I 
hope  you  will  both  come  to  see  me  very  often,  for  I 
feel  that  it  is  going  to  be  such  a  perfect  delight  to 
have  you  for  my  friends.  I  have  made  but  few  as 
yet." 

"Not  the  wife  of  the  wonderful  cartoonist,  Mrs. 
Harding?"  asked  the  man,  in  almost  incredulous  and 
seemingly  unpleased  surprise. 

"The  very  same,  Mr.  Lindsay."  And  the  young 
woman  smiled  proudly  at  the  great  compliment  paid 
her  husband.  "You  are  certainly  most  kind  to  speak 
of  his  work  so  flatteringly." 

"Your  husband  is  a  very  clever  man,  Mrs.  Hard 
ing";  returned  the  other,  warmly.  "We  have  known 
him — that  is,  by  reputation,"  he  explained — "for  a 
considerable  time."  Then  after  a  second's  pause  he 
added,  "and  we  had  also  heard  much  about  a  very 
charming,  young  wife  whom  he  married,  something 
over  a  year  ago;  was  it  not?  But  we  had  never 
dreamed  of  meeting  her,  or  of  having  this  pleasure 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  353 

of  finding  in  her  the  daughter  of  our  dear  old  friends. 
You  are  almost  a  perfect  double  of  your  beautiful 
mother,  Mrs.  Harding," — he  could  not  restrain  him 
self  from  saying — "and  believe  me,  acquaintance, 
friendship  with  you  would  be  more  than  valued  by 
us,  because  of  that  resemblance,  alone." 

"And  I  shall  be  much  pleased  to  have  you  become 
more  intimately  acquainted  with  my  husband,"  re 
turned  Alice.  "I  am  sure  it  will  be  an  agreeable  sur 
prise  to  him  upon  his  return  to  find  that  we  have  met. 
He  is  in  America  at  present,  but  not  for  long.  He 
has  grown  such  a  very  busy  man  of  late,  that  I  seem 
to  see  not  much  of  him,  when  at  home;  but  of  course 
I  am  especially  lonesome  during  his  absence;  so  do 
favor  me  with  your  company  as  much  as  possible, 
won't  you?  Come  and  dine  with  me  tomorrow;  I 
can't  tell  you  the  great  happiness  it  will  bring  me." 

This  hearty  invitation  was  accepted  with  becoming 
alacrity,  for  the  meeting  with  the  young  woman  had 
been  as  genuine  a  pleasure  to  the  Lindsays,  as  to  her 
self.  The  memory  of  their  by-gone  friendship  and 
intimate  association  with  Gertrude  Warfield,  had  been 
a  sweet  and  cherished  one  to  them  both,  through  all 
the  passing  years ;  for  in  losing  the  girl  of  his  choice, 
this  man  had  neither  been  rejected  nor  jilted,  it  will 
be  remembered.  His  case  had  been  a  disappointment, 
pure  and  simple;  hence  there  had  been  no  cause  or 
room  for  resentment.  Yet  though  a  simple  disappoint 
ment,  as  we  have  said,  the  disappointment  had  been 


354  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

by  no  means  a  'simple'  one  to  Jack  Lindsay.  His 
longing,  constant  heart,  had  been  so  completely  cen 
tered  in  his  sister's  fascinating  friend,  that  his  love, 
though  hopeless,  had  been  undying;  its  indestructible 
flame  had  burned  so  steadily  on,  that  famous,  wealthy, 
handsome  though  he  was,  and  much  sought  after  as 
he  had  therefore  naturally  been,  the  man  was  in  con 
sequence,  still  a  bachelor.  Hattie  Lindsay,  too,  had 
remained  single;  she  was  not  of  the  marrying  kind; 
and  between  the  brother  and  sister,  a  beautiful,  com 
pensating  comradeship  existed. 

Now  when  the  man  stated  to  Mrs.  Harding  that  he 
had  acquaintance  with  her  'clever'  husband,  knew  him 
'by  reputation,'  he  could  have  put  it  yet  stronger, 
and  added  that  that  reputation,  as  he  knew  it,  was  an 
unsavory  one.  His  first  words  to  his  sister  however, 
when  he  had  rejoined  her  in  the  famous  gallery  after 
seeing  that  lady  to  her  waiting  carriage — and  spoken 
also  with  an  undisguised  show  of  indignation — were, 
"Great  Scott,  Sis !  to  think  of  Gertie's  daughter  being 
the  wife  of  that  scalawag!  Why,  I  can't  reconcile 
myself  to  the  thought  of  it,  at  all !" 

"So  that's  the  Harding  I've  heard  you  and  some  of 
our  friends  grill  so  unmercifully,  is  it?"  exclaimed  the 
other.  "I  remember  George  Carter's  saying  that  there 
wasn't  a  vice  but  what  he  was  addicted  to,  and  that 
he  hadn't  a  solitary  redeeming  trait." 

"If  he  has,  I've  never  heard  it  exploited.  As  to 
his  vices,  I  believe  there's  one  he  hasn't  attached  him- 


THREE  HAPPENINGS 


355 


self  to,  as  yet,  and  that's  drink,  and  so  he  has  no 
charity  whatever,  for  a  poor  devil  who  is  addicted  to 
it.  To  hear  him  denounce  an  excess  in  that  direction, 
one  who  didn't  know,  would  imagine  him,  not  simply  a 
saint,  but  a  saint  run  mad." 

'  'Hopes  to  atone  for  sins  he's  inclined  to — by 
damning  those  he  has  no  mind  to' ;  I  suppose." 

"Very  likely,"  nodded  Jack.  Then,  "But  where 
under  the  Sun  could  she  have  met  him?  She's  very 
young,  and  he's  been  over  here  a  long  time." 

"Didn't  you  notice  what  she  said  about  him  being 
a  nephew  of  their  Aunt,  Mrs.  George  Nichols,  of 
Chicago?  queried  the  sister.  "She  probably  made  the 
match.  She  always  had  an  ungovernable  passion  for 
that  sort  of  thing,  I  know";  she  continued.  A  bit 
spitefully  too,  it  must  be  admitted ;  as  though  the  rec 
ollection  yet  rankled,  of  how,  in  the  days  that  were 
gone,  she  had  been  check-mated,  repeatedly,  by  the 
lady  in  question. 

"Well,  he  probably  managed  to  pull  wool  over  her 
eyes,  too,  then.  He's  a  slick  enough  article  to  deceive 
most  any  one.  But  however  it  happened,  it's  a  cruel 
shame,  and  I  pity  her  from  the  very  bottom  of  my 
heart.  Why  it's  notorious  how  he  tyrannizes  over 
and  neglects  her,  already.  We  must  see  all  we  can  of 
her,  Sis,"  the  man  went  on,  sympathetically,  "and  try 
to  bring  more  or  less  of  happiness  into  her  life;  for 
it's  precious  little  beside  sadness  that  he'll  put  there. 
I'm  afraid  we  won't  be  very  welcome  acquaintances 


356  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

however,  after  he  gets  back,  for  he  hates  me  worse 
than  poison,  since  I  had  him  black-balled  when  he 
tried  to  get  into  our  guild.  If  I  had  known  who  his 
wife  was  at  the  time  though,  Sis,"  he  concluded, 
soberly,  "that  she  was  related  to  her,  I  couldn't  have 
done  it !" 

"How  very  much  alike  they  are" ;  he  mused,  rather 
than  spoke.  "The  same  glorious  eyes,  exquisite  tint 
ing,  sunny  hair,  the  same  music  in  the  voice,  the  same 
sweet  smile,  the  same  irresistible  charm  of  manner. 
Sis,"  he  burst  out  suddenly,  "if  I  hear  of  any  more 
of  his  cuttings  up,  I  shall  be  tempted  to  thrash  the 
hound  within  an  inch  of  his  life !" 

Now  the  unexpected  encounter  at  the  Louvre, 
seemed  more  a  Providence  than  accident  for  Alice 
Harding;  for  the  great  yearning  of  her  heavy  heart 
at  the  time,  had  been  for  companionship ;  while  shortly, 
the  crying  need  of  her  life,  was  for  friends.  Disinter 
ested,  leal,  and  loving  friends,  just  such  as  now  came 
to  hand  in  these  old-time  family  acquaintances;  the 
exceeding  opportuneness  of  its  happening  stamping  it 
a  God-send  indeed,  whose  value  to  her  proved  fully 
equal  to  the  joy  and  comfort  which  it  brought. 

Following  her  informal  dinner  to  them,  Alice  had 
been  carried  off  by  her  new-found  friends  to  their 
artistic  home  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  had  there 
spent  the  happiest  two  weeks  which  she  had  known 
since  the  few  well  remembered  ones  of  her  very  early 
married  life.  Upon  arrival,  her  host  had  graciously 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  357 

shown  her — hung,  sacred  to  himself,  in  his  own  private 
sanctum — the  wonderful,  life-size,  life-like  picture,  for 
which  her  beautiful  mother  had  unknowingly  posed 
so  many  years  before,  and  which  had  brought,  first 
fame  and  then  fortune  to  the  unknown  young  painter, 
by  discovering  to  him  his  latent  capabilities.  While 
she  listened,  breathless  with  astonishment  and  deepest 
interest,  the  lover-artist — for  the  first  time — recounted 
to  another,  all  the  sweetly-bitter  details  of  its  romantic 
inspiration. 

"It  was  a  friendly,  honorable  rivalry,  Mrs.  Harding, 
for  the  favor  of  the  loveliest  earth-angel  ever 
courted";  he  told  her  at  the  last;  "in  which  your 
worthy  father  had  the  advantage  of  priority.  Had  it 
not  been  for  that,  while  I  should  then  probably  never 
have  become  much  known  as  an  artist,  I  shall  always 
indulge  the  precious  conceit  that  I  would  have  known 
the  prouder,  and  far  happier  distinction,  of  having  been 
your  father.  You  must  look  upon  sister  and  me  here 
after,"  he  continued,  impressively,  "in  the  light  of 
parents;  and  if  ever  in  need  of  sympathy,  advice,  or 
assistance  of  any  sort,  I  want  to  feel  that  you  will 
come  to  us  as  freely  and  unhesitatingly  as  though  that 
sacred  relationship  did  actually  exist  between  us."  And 
gratefully  indeed,  had  his  most  needy  auditor  promised 
to  think  of  and  feel  towards  the  couple  thence-forth, 
as  the  useful,  good  and  true  friends  they  fain  would 
be. 

Full  of  life  and  fond  of  it  although  no  longer  young, 


358  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  Lindsays  had  hosts  of  acquaintances,  many  of 
whom  were  now  bidden  to  meet  their  fair  young 
guest;  and  what  with  a  constant  succession  of  de 
lightful  entertainments  at  home,  more  or  less  of  trip 
ping  about  to  places  and  scenes  of  interest  before  un 
known  to  her,  concerts  and  the  opera, — for  being  a 
fine  musician  herself  Alice  was  naturally  a  great  lover 
of  music — the  two  well  filled  weeks  had  flown  by,  with 
that  regrettable  haste  for  which  all  of  our  most 
precious,  happiest  seasons  seem  somehow  to  have  such 
a  provoking  knack, — for  ' Father  Time  is  deaf  to  all 
persuading;  not  a  moment  will  he  stay' — and  had 
brought  the  friends  to  their  last  evening  together; 
Gerald  being  due  to  reach  home  on  the  morrow. 
Friends  who  were  to  have  come  to  them  for  a  social 
hour  had  been  prevented  at  the  last  from  keeping 
the  engagement;  and  not  to  miss  a  final  occasion  for 
the  charming  visitor  from  whom  they  were  prepared 
to  part  with  much  regret,  Jack  had  at  once  suggested 
the  theatre. 

"There'll  be  no  boxes  to  be  had  at  this  hour  of 
course,"  said  he,  "but  we  can  probably  pick  up  three 
pretty  decent  parquette  seats" ;  so  in  the  parquette  the 
willing  trio  had  been  content  to  settle.  Then  came 
that  third  happening  to  which  we  have  before  alluded. 

Now  in  accepting  the  gracious  hospitality  of  her 
host  and  hostess,  Alice  Harding  had  done  so,  wisely 
determined,  for  the  nonce,  to  rise  above  the  depressing 
emotions  with  which  the  disappointing  past  had  bur- 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  359 

dened  her  heart,  also  the  gloomy  forebodings  for  the 
future  which  oppressed,  and  to  give  herself  up  un 
reservedly  to  the  perfect  and  full  enjoyment  of  the 
happy  present;  for  knowing  the  disastrous  revelation 
with  its  bitter  disappointment  in  store  for  her  absent 
husband,  and  certain  that  it  would  be  taken  very  hard, 
his  mood,  upon  returning,  would  be  little  conducive  to 
domestic  happiness,  she  well  knew.  If,  therefore,  a 
momentary  shadow  which  involuntarily  flitted  across 
the  bright,  young  face,  at  thought  of  the  nearness  of 
that  return,  was,  perchance,  caused  by  regret,  who 
could  wonder  or  blame? 

Her  fresh,  unsurfeited  enjoyment  of  pleasure  was 
yet  almost  childish,  in  its  whole-souled,  outspoken 
appreciation ;  for  having  practically  immolated  youth 
by  marrying  from  the  schoolroom,  Alice  had  known 
but  little  of  its  diversions,  as  yet,  and  upon  this  par 
ticular  evening,  the  transported  young  woman  had 
fairly  beamed  with  happiness ;  fascinated  by  every 
feature  of  the  long  and  splendid  play,  until,  amid  a 
burst  of  thunderous  applause,  the  curtain  had  gone 
down  before  the  last,  short  act. 

In  the  contrasting  stillness  which  followed,  a  con 
versation,  carried  on  between  two  young  women 
seated  immediately  in  front  of  them, — who  had  but 
shortly  before  come  in,  and  whose  loud  appearance 
and  frequent  distracting  laughter,  had  from  the  first 
proclaimed  them  more  anxious  to  be  seen  and  heard 
than  to  see  and  hear — fell  with  painful  distinctness 
upon  the  ears  of  our  little  party. 


360  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"Your  shair  ah-me — as  these  pollyvous  call  'em — 
will  be  back  soon  now,  won't  he?"  asked  the  first 
speaker. 

"Which  one?"  inquired  the  other,  innocently. 

"O,  come  off  now,  Vi !"  exclaimed  her  companion, 
shortly.  "Don't  try  ter  make  out  yer  such  a  charmer 
that  yer've  got  'em  by  the  dozen;  yer  know  deuced 
well  I  mean  Harding.  When's  he  due?" 

"Tomorrow" ;  was  the  brief  and  seemingly  reluctant 
reply. 

"And  when  does  the  bunch  git  that  big  blow-out 
and  jambouree  that  he  promised  us  before  he  went? 
that  full  dress  affair  yer  know ;  collar  and  a  pair  of 
socks,"  returned  the  other,  with  an  insinuating  laugh, 
"I  want  ter  git  a  yard  er  two  of  tarleton  and  a  few 
spangles  ready  ter  shine  in." 

"Don't  ask  me  when  it's  to  be !"  curtly. 

"Why,  haven't  yer  heard  from  'im?" 

"A  postal  when  he  landed." 

"Well  who  shall  I  ask  then?  Gramont,  perhaps"; 
retorted  the  first  speaker,  maliciously ;  evidently  piqued 
at  her  companion's  uncommunicativeness.  "She's 
better  posted  on  the  subject  than  you  are  any  way,  I 
guess,"  she  went  on.  "We  all  know  he's  makin'  a 
dead  set  for  Mmle.  Julie;  had  her  meet  him  at  Calais 
and  go  up  to  Liverpool  to  see  'im  off.  Ha!  ha!  didn't 
let  you  know  about  that  nice  little  arrangement,  I 
s'pose?  O,  you'll  soon  be  a  back  number,  Vi;  don't 
fool  yerself ;  he'll  be  solid  with  her  now  he's  got  the 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  361 

dough;  the  Johnnies  all  have  ter  hand  it  out  ter  her 
in  good  big  chunks,  I  can  tell  yer!  He'd  stick  to 
'is  own  countrywomen  though  if  he'd  a  grain  of  sense 
in  his  empty  head,  fer  it  was  a  Frenchy  come  after 
me  and  played  the  deuce  with  'im;  bled  'im  dry,  then 
swiped  'is  dimonds  an'  lit  out.  That  was  before  you 
was  fool  enough  ter  throw  yerself  away  on  'im." 

"The  cat !"  hissed  her  listener,  angrily. 

"Oh,  'taint  no  use  callin'  the  girl  names,  Vi,  er  let- 
tin'  yer  angry  passions  rise,  either";  returned  the 
other,  with  a  harsh,  unsympathetic  laugh.  "Tempers 
aint  becomin'  ter  your  peculiar  style  o'  beauty,  an' 
they  play  hell  with  the  digestion,  besides.  There's 
reason  enough  though,  I  guess" ;  she  resumed  after  a 
second's  pause;  "fer  I  had  a  hunch  that  Vd  promised 
'er  the  finest  set  er  sables  that  money  can  buy  when 
'e  gits  back." 

"Let  him  dare,  the  beast,"  now  broke  in  the  other, 
excitedly,  and  there'll  be  a  sizzler  in  this  old  Sodom! 
You  just  keep  your  ears  peeled  for  a  good  big  squeal 
from  me  if  he  does,  Ol;  and  I'll  put  his  wife  wise  at 
a  two-forty  pace,  too.  Maybe  you  think  revenge  ain't 
sweet  to  Violet  Hutchinson?  Well  if  it  ain't  sweet, 
it  ain't  exactly  zvormzvood  and  gall,  either." 

"Ever  seen  the  lady,  Vi?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"She  come  into  the  studio  for  a  bit  of  chat  with 
her  liege  lord  and  master  one  day,  months  ago" ;  re- 


362  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

plied  the  other ;  now  laughing  merrily  at  the  recol 
lection.  "But  trust  Gerry  to  nip  a  nice,  little,  wifely 
habit  like  that  in  the  bud ;  too  inconvenient,  you  know. 
She  never  come  again ;  oh,  no,  you  bet  she  didn't !" 
chuckled  the  girl. 

"What's  she  like?" 

"Gee,  Ol,  but  she's  a  dream!  and  swell f  Well  I 
should  snicker !  She's  a  born  aristocrat,  you  could  see 
that  at  a  glance,  but  just  as  sweet  and  lovely  as  they 
make  'em;  and  the  man  who  wouldn't  be  true  to  her, 
ought  to  be  tarred  and  feathered ;  if  /  do  say  it !  Why 
Ol,  I  felt  like  a  three-cent  piece  beside  her,  and  a 
counterfeit  at  that";  the  girl  went  on;  with  a  pitiful 
sigh  of  unmistakable,  if  perhaps,  only  momentary  re 
gret.  Then  continued,  "She's  a  dear  little  noodle 
though,  Gerry  says;  swallows  down  whole  any  kind 
of  a  spiel  he's  a  mind  to  hand  out,  and  thinks  he's 
killing  himself  with  overwork!  Oh,  law-see,  ain't  it 
rich!"  she  finished;  shaking  with  laughter,  in  which 
her  companion  boisterously  joined. 

"Did  it  stump  Gerry  when  she  dropped  in  on  yer?" 

"Well,  he's  got  the  cheek  of  the  devil,  you  know 
that,  Ol;  but  he  really  did  seem  to  turn  just  a  shade 
paler  around  the  gills  for  about  the  thirty-secondth 
part  of  a  second." 

"Introduce  yer?" 

"Introduce  me?  Don't  try  to  be  funny,  Ol";  re 
turned  the  other,  impatiently. 

"Anything  a  doin'  at  the  time,  Vi?"  now  asked  her 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  363 

companion,  with  still  greater  interest;  princking  her 
ears  for  some  possibly  racy  details  to  enjoy. 

"O,  nothing  much,  fortunately;  I  was  sprawled  out 
in  a  neglige,  puffing — " 

"And  Gerry?"  put  in  the  other  quickly. 

"Well,  he  was — er — feasting  his  eyes  upon  my 
many  charms,  as  usual" ;  drawled  the  girl,  reflectively. 
"At  a  respectable  distance,  of  course,"  she  explained; 
"but  with  that  lovesick,  dying-calf  sort  of  a  look  that 
the  critter  always  puts  into  his  innocent,  soulful  eyes, 
when  he  wants  to  be  real  melting."  Adding,  with  a 
coarse  laugh,  "you've  been  there,  Ol;  you  know  how 
it  is  yourself." 

The  short,  disgusting  conversation,  which  from 
abundance  of  material  might  no  doubt  have  been  con 
tinued  much  longer,  was  here  cut  short  by  a  sudden 
unusual  stirring  in  the  row  behind,  and  a  man's  ex 
cited  though  smothered  "Great  Scott,  Sis!  she's 
fainted!  Let's  get  her  out  of  here  quick!"  And 
taking  their  unconscious  young  guest  in  his  arms  as 
though  she  had  been  a  child,  Jack  Lindsay,  flushed 
with  indignation,  and  followed  by  his  equally  alarmed 
and  angry  sister,  began  making  a  hasty  exit. 

Turning  at  the  sound  of  the  unusual  commotion  be 
hind  them,  the  chattering  women — whose  incriminat 
ing  conversation  had  been  responsible  for  it — caught 
sight  of  the  closed  eyes,  and  the  bloodless  face  hang 
ing  limply  to  one  side. 

"Good  Lord,  Ol!"  exclaimed  the  reputed  model  of 


364  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  studio; — with  a  horrified  and  truly  remorseful 
look  upon  her  young,  and  still  handsome,  though  hard 
ened  face — it's  her,  and  she  must  have  heard!  The 
dose  is  just  what  Gerry  deserves,  but  so  help  me  God ! 
Fd  rather  have  had  my  tongue  pulled  out  by  the  roots, 
than  to  hurt  her  so,  if  I'd  only  known !" 

"It  is  too  bad,  poor  thing";  allowed  the  older 
woman;  with  but  little  show  of  pity,  however.  Add 
ing  philosophically,  "but  there's  no  use  cryin'  over 
spilt  milk,  Vi.  There'll  be  the  devil  to  pay  when  Gerry 
gits  home,  that's  a  cinch !  I  hope  she  goes  fer  'im, 
shovel  an'  tongs.  You've  cooked  your  goose  with  'im 
though,  all  right,  Vi,  so  you'd  better  git  a  wiggle  on, 
an'  begin  a  hustlin'  for  another  job.  Who's  that  crazy 
guy  a  rubberin'  at,  I  wonder?"  she  finished;  as  her 
roving  eye  lighted  upon  some  object  ahead. 

"Which  one?"  asked  her  companion,  straightening 
up  to  look. 

"Why  that  cracked  lookin'  old  billiard  ball  down 
there  in  front" ;  sneered  the  other,  as  the  curtain  went 
up. 

Stunned  by  the  undreamed-of  revelation — for  she 
had  never  once  suspected  what  manner  of  man  he 
really  was — Alice  Harding  had  seen  the  base,  loath 
some  character  of  her  husband  laid  bare  before  her  in 
the  foregoing,  low  conversation,  every  word  of  which 
had  been  as  a  poisoned  dart,  piercing  her  already  bur 
dened  heart  with  deadly  aim ;  until  her  outraged  feel- 
irgs  could  bear  no  more  and  she  had  found  a  merciful 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  365 

relief  for  a  time  in  fainting.  It  was  long  before  she 
came  to,  but  when  she  did,  it  was  to  open  her  eyes 
upon  the  familiar  surroundings  of  home,  and  to  find 
the  faithful  friends,  now  so  much  needed,  at  her  side; 
for  an  emergency  calling  for  just  the  very  advice, 
sympathy  and  assistance  which  Jack  Lindsay  had  of 
fered  to  her  such  a  short  two  weeks  before,  had  arisen 
all  too  soon. 

Now,  a  heart  deep  wounded,  feels  too  much  pain  to 
feel  anger,  'tis  said;  and  surely  that  of  this  young 
wife  had  been  smitten  to  the  core.  There  seemed 
nothing  vindictive  or  vengeful  in  her  feelings  towards 
her  husband,  however.  It  might  have  been  that  she 
was  too  much  crushed  for  that;  for  to  her  indignant 
friends,  her  calm  resignment  under  such  excessive 
provocation  seemed  hardly  natural,  even  in  one  of  her 
most  sweet  and  forgiving  disposition. 

"I  shall  always  blame  myself  for  your  suffering, 
Mrs.  Harding" ; — Jack  told  her  regretfully,  when  she 
had  been  revived  and  gained  back  a  little  of  her 
wonted  strength.  "Only  for  this  unfortunate  evening 
which  was  my  suggestion,  you  might  never  have 
learned  these  bitter  truths ;  for  that  they  are  truths, 
I  am  unhappily  unable  to  deny" ;  he  was  forced  to 
admit,  in  answer  to  her  questionings  as  to  his  knowl 
edge  of  her  husband's  habits. 

"They  are  inexpressibly  bitter  truths  and  sad,  it  is 
true,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  was  the  quiet  reply;  "and  yet  I 
feel  that  my  enlightenment,  which  would  no  doubt 


366  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

have  come  at  some  time,  is  most  opportune  just  now, 
for  before  it,  I  had  decided  upon  a  course  of  action  in  a 
certain  very  important  matter,  which,  unadvised,  I 
might  even  yet  have  carried  out ;  but  it  is  possible  that 
I  may  change  my  mind  regarding  it  after  hearing  your 
opinions,  for  which  I  am  now  going  to  ask.  You 
don't  know  what  a  relief  and  comfort  it  is  to  me  to 
have  friends  in  whom  to  confide  and  ask  advice  of; 
what  would  I  do  without  them  now?  I  have  some 
means,  you  know,"  she  went  on,  "and  ever  since  we 
were  married,  my  husband  has  been  urging  me  tc 
turn  my  affairs  over  to  him  to  take  care  of  for  me, 
He  thinks  that  is  the  way  a  wife  should  do,  and  so  da 
I.  It  was  the  way  Mamma  did,  and  but  that  Auntie 
has  continually  advised  delay,  I  should  have  consented 
long  ago.  Perhaps  Gerald  would  have  loved  me  more 
and  been  different,  if  I  had" ;  she  put  in  reproachfully ; 
with  a  sudden  new  quiver  in  the  voice  that  had  nol 
been  there  before.  "I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  dc 
this  upon  his  return,  though,"  she  continued  after  a 
pause,  her  tones  gradually  steadying  as  she  spoke, 
"What  do  you  both  think  about  the  plan?  Please  tell 
me." 

"Turn  your  fortune  over  to  that — /  Pardon  me, 
Mrs.  Harding"; — apologized  her  friend,  for  his  vehe 
mence  was  very  pronounced,  while  with  great  effort 
he  refrained  himself  from  the  scathing  denunciation 
of  the  man  which  intense  indignation  had  forced  tc 
his  lips.  "I'll  try  not  to  forget  that  I'm  speaking  oi 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  ,  367 

your  husband.  But  since  you  ask  for  our  advice,  and 
I  am  very  sure  my  sister's  opinion  coincides  with  my 
own/' — an  emphatic  nod  of  approval  from  Miss  Lind 
say — "you  must  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  Why,  it 
would  be  a  practical  signing  of  your  death  warrant 
to  give  your  fortune  into  the  keeping  of  a  man  like 
him." 

"But  I  think  perhaps  my  husband  would  appreciate 
it  very  much  now,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  the  woman  replied, 
"and  it  might  be  the  means  of  winning  him  back  to 
better  ways,  you  know." 

"Never,  Mrs.  Harding!"  protested  Jack  hotly;  hur 
rying  on,  "the  man  who  could  be  won  back  to  better 
ways  by  such  a  means  as  that,  couldn't  be  won  back 
at  all !  If  I  may  be  pardoned  an  unintentional  Hiber- 
nacism  at  such  a  time" ;  he  put  in  quickly. 

"A  part  of  it  at  least,  then" ;  persisted  the  other. 

"Not  a  penny,  Mrs.  Harding !" 

"But  you  don't  know  my  husband,  Mr.  Lindsay"; 
Alice  now  ventured,  and  evidently  voicing  the  confi 
dence  she  was  about  to  give  with  great  reluctance. 
"Our  life  together  would  surely  be  most  unhappy  if  I 
did  not;  and  beside,  there  are  reasons." 

"I  can  conceive  of  no  good  reason  for  such  a  course, 
Mrs.  Harding."  There  was  now  a  tinge  of  real  im 
patience  in  the  tones  of  her  friendly  adviser.  "While 
as  for  your  life  being  unhappy,"  he  went  on,  "God 
knows  he's  made  it  that  already!  My  advice  to  you 
is  to  leave  the  man  at  once!  he's  proven  himself 
utterly  unworthy  of  you!" 


368  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

"I  could  never  do  that,  Mr.  Lindsay";  at  once  put 
in  the  wronged  wife,  with  a  quiet  dignity  of  manner 
always  present,  but  which  the  unhappy  experience  of 
the  evening  seemed  to  have  accentuated  and  made 
more  noticeable;  plainly  showing  the  suggestion  to  be 
an  altogether  objectionable  one.  "I  could  never  do 
that!"  she  repeated.  "Separation,  divorce,  are  things 
unknown  in  my  family;  considered  a  disgrace,  even. 
'Until  death  us  do  part/  has  been  the  invariable  prac 
tice  upon  both  sides  of  the  house;  and  I  could  never 
bring  myself  to  be  its  first  member  to  place  a  stigma 
upon  it;  a  blot  upon  its  unsullied  escutcheon,  by  re 
pudiating  the  marriage  contract/' 

"Nor  do  /  advocate  such  a  proceeding,  ordinarily, 
Mrs.  Harding"; — the  man  hastened  to  affirm — "but 
'where  the  contract  exists  it  involves  obligation,  to 
both  husband  and  wife  in  an  equal  relation/  you 
know,"  he  continued.  "You  must  not  lose  sight  of 
that  fact ;  and  his  outrageous  disregard  of  it,  has  given 
you  the  means  of  freedom." 

"Which  I  do  not  want,  Mr.  Lindsay;  I  shall  never 
leave  my  husband,"  came  the  quick  reply,  with  a 
gentle  positiveness  which  brooked  of  no  further  argu 
ment  upon  the  subject.  "And  as  for  my  fortune," 
she  resumed,  "he  must  have  the  half  of  it  then,  out 
right,  since  I  may  not  entrust  the  whole  of  it  to  his 
keeping;  and  all  things  considered,  I  believe,  with 
you,  that  such  a  course  would  not  be  wise  now.  Please 
do  not  think  me  unnecessarily  obdurate,  Mr.  Lindsay, 


THREE  HAPPENINGS  369 

or  that  I  do  not  appreciate  your  advice";  she  con 
tinued,  with  a  sweet  appealing ;  "but,  you  see,  there  are 
things  which  you  do  not  know." 

"And  which  you  cannot  tell  me,  Mrs.  Harding?" 
queried  the  man;  not  for  the  satisfaction  of  an  idle 
curiosity,  but  from  a  sincere  desire  to  save  their  un 
wise  young  friend  from  herself,  as  appeared  necessary. 

An  interval  of  silence  now  followed ;  Alice,  the 
meanwhile,  debating  within  herself  as  to  whether  the 
confiding  of  his  unfortunate  secret  to  these  trust 
worthy  friends,  in  whose  keeping  she  well  knew  it 
would  remain  inviolate,  would  indeed  be  an  act  of 
criminal  disloyalty  to  her  deceased  uncle.  "Gerald, 
in  his  anger,  will  no  doubt  blurt  it  out,  anyway,"  she 
reasoned,  from  her  knowledge  of  her  husband's  dis 
position,  "and  it  might  be  even  better  that  they  should 
hear  it  from  me  first." 

"You  will  excuse  my  hesitation  I  hope,  dear 
friends,"  she  at  length  apologized.  "It  was  not  from 
any  lack  of  confidence,  I  assure  you,  but  because  those 
reasons  involved  the  good  name  of  another.  My  hus 
band's  fortune  has  been  lost  through  unprofitable  in 
vestments.  Uncle  George,  one  of  the  dearest  and 
noblest  of  men  that  ever  lived,  has  had  the  care  of  it, 
you  know,  and  a  letter  received  from  Aunt  Alice  since 
Gerald  sailed,  tells  me  that  it  is  all  gone.  It  will  be  a 
dreadful  blow  to  him,  of  course,  when  he  learns  the 
shocking  truth;  so  you  see  now  that  I  couldn't  think 
of  keeping  all  of  mine  under  such  circumstances ;  and 


370  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

I  hope  you  will  both  approve  of  my  dividing  with 
him.  It  will  not  be  quite  an  even  division,  either,  for 
after  giving  to  him  the  $100,000  which  has  been  lost, 
thanks  to  Uncle  George's  management,  I  shall  have 
quite  some  more  than  that  left;  the  'lion's  share,'  you 
see";  she  added,  with  a  faint,  sweet  smile.' 

"Of  course,  it  is  not  for  us  to  disapprove,  or  object 
to  such  an  unselfish  arrangement,  or  even  try  to  fur 
ther  dissuade  you  from  it  Mrs.  Harding";  assented 
Jack,  although  reluctantly.  "All  we  can  do  is  to  hope 
that  it  may  be  appreciated  as  you  seem  to  think  it  will, 
and  as  it  certainly  should  be." 

"I  believe  it  will,  Mr.  Lindsay,"  replied  the  woman, 
hopefully;  "but  in  any  case,  I  shall  at  least  have  the 
satisfaction  and  happiness  of  doing  what  I  feel  to  be 
my  duty."  And  there  followed  the  mental  query, 
"Was  it  not  indeed  for  this  very  duty  that  I  came  unto 
this  hour?" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  MILLS  OF  GOD TRANSFERRED  AFFECTIONS. 

"  'Because  judgment  again&t  an  evil  work  is 
not  speedily  pronounced,  therefore  the  hearts 
of  the  sons  of  men  are  fully  set  in  them  to  do 
evil.'  " 

Since  the  lofty  virtues  of  appreciation  and  gratitude 
are  not  inherent  in  men  of  his  type,  it  will  be  no  sur 
prise  to  the  reader  to  learn  that  the  generosity  of  bis 
wife,  splendid  enough  in  any  worthy  case  but  almost 
without  parallel  in  such  an  one  as  his,  awakened 
neither  of  these  emotions  in  the  breast  of  Gerald 
Harding.  That  he  accepted  the  gift  goes  without  say 
ing,  for  the  slogan  of  his  unmanly  class  has  ever  been, 
'get  all  you  can  from  a  wife.'  And  if  the  whole  truth 
must  be  told,  even  this  voluntary  division  of  her  prop 
erty  in  his  interest,  was  far  from  satisfying;  the  abso 
lute  control  of  the  whole  being  what  he  had  always 
wished  for,  had  long  been  urging,  and  had  planned  to 
demand  from  Alice  now,  as  "but  a  proper  offset  for 
the  thievish  way  in  which  your  villainous  uncle  has 
buncoed  me  out  of  my  own";  as  he  was  not  slow  to 
wound  afresh  by  telling  her.  For  Gerald  had  reached 
home  in  an  exceedingly  ugly  mood,  and  his  wife's 
show  of  real  determination  in  opposing  his  wishes  in 
the  matter,  was  nothing  calculated  to  soothe  the  ruf 
fled  feelings  of  the  man. 


372  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

At  length,  however,  finding  both  persuasion  and 
demand  unavailing, — for  Alice,  to  her  credit  be  it 
said,  had  remained  firm  though  sweet — he  had  un 
graciously  consented  to  accept  the  proposed  settle 
ment,  and  then,  as  might  have  been  foreseen,  at  once 
set  about  having  the  time  of  his  life. 

What  with  the  income  from  his  profession — now 
quite  large — and  his  wife's  munificence,  there  was  at 
this  time  considerable  of  money  to  burn,  and  like  all 
prodigals,  Gerald  Harding  lacked  not  for  friends ( ?) 
to  help  throw  this  money  to  the  flames.  Conflagra 
tions  of  the  sort  thus  produced,  could  not  of  course 
burn  within  the  pure  and  sacred  precincts  of  home, 
and  soon  it  came  to  be  that  but  very  little  of  the  man's 
leisure  time  was  spent  there. 

Details  are  not  needed  to  convince  us  that  it  was 
now  a  sorry  time  for  Alice  Harding.  There  was  the 
loneliness  to  be  borne,  and  even  more  sickening  still, 
there  was  the  continual  revolt  of  her  intensely  high- 
minded,  truthful  nature,  against  the  oft-times  puerile 
and  well-known  lying  excuses  of  her  husband  for  his 
absences  and  neglect.  For  he  was  in  ignorance  of 
her  knowledge  of  his  true  character  and  mode  of  life, 
so  cruelly  thrust  upon  her  on  that  fatal  evening.  She 
could  not  bring  herself  to  tell  him ;  she  lacked  the 
heart,  because  sensible  of  an  utter  lack  of  manhood 
in  him  to  which  she  might  appeal.  "What  good 
would  it  do?"  she  mused  dejectedly.  "He  would  but 
find  some  new  way  to  deceive  me."  For  the  last  lin- 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  373 

gering  ray  of  hope  for  a  change  of  heart  in  her  erring 
husband  had  vanished,  when  she  saw  how  unthank- 
fully  her  gift  had  been  received;  and  she  was  forced 
to  the  sorry  conclusion  that  she  must  resign  herself 
to  the  unhappy  fate  of  an  unloved  wife. 

It  was  during  these  early,  bitter  days  of  dispelled 
illusion,  that  Alice  Harding  learned  the  exceeding 
sweetness  of  true  friendship.  'Faithful  friends  are 
hard  to  find,'  writes  one ;  but  the  value  of  such  as  now 
revealed  to  her  in  Hattie  and  Jack  Lindsay,  she  found 
to  be  beyond  computing.  Knowing  her  great  need 
of  loving  sympathy  and  companionship,  these  two,  im 
pelled  alike  by  devotion  to  a  cherished  memory  and 
admiration  for  herself,  became  a  stay  and  support 
which  not  even  the  unpardonable  boorishness  of  her 
husband — between  whom  and  they,  as  we  have  learned, 
there  was  no  love  lost — could  drive  from  her. 

This  boorishness  he  had  first  manifested  upon  the 
occasion  of  their  call  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  his 
wife,  on  the  day  following  his  arrival  home.  Out  of 
sorts  with  the  world  in  general  at  this  time,  and  Alice 
in  particular,  and  agig  with  delight  at  having  an  op 
portunity  to  rap  the  man  whom  he  was  pleased  to  look 
upon  as  an  enemy,  Gerald  had  acknowledged  his  wife's 
introduction  to  Mr.  Lindsay  with  a  very  formal  hand 
shake,  accompanied  by  a  cold,  "I've  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  the  gentleman  before" ;  then  coarsely  added, 
"did  you  know  that  he  was  stuck  on  your  mother 
once?  But  Aunt  Alice  was  too  smart  for  him  and 
knocked  his  little  game  silly." 


374  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRK 

The  despicable  taunt  had  been  as  a  dagger-thrust 
to  Jack  Lindsay,  and  the  impulse  to  collar  the  man 
then  and  there  a  hard  one  to  resist ;  but  consideration 
for  the  mortified  wife  had  of  course  made  this  neces 
sary,  and  he  had  deigned  no  reply.  Alice  had  apolo 
gized  for  it  afterward  on  the  plea  that  her  husband 
was  very  tired  and  not  feeling  well;  but  the  occur 
rence  had  effectually  shattered  the  pleasant  dream  she 
began  indulging  at  the  first  meeting  with  her  new 
found  friends,  that  they  four  might  form  a  com 
panionable  quartette;  and  the  realization  that  this 
hope,  also,  must  prove  futile,  added  yet  another  to  her 
already  long  list  of  disappointments. 

With  much  the  same  ardor  with  which  a  disap 
pointed  soul  oft  flings  itself  into  religion,  the  unhappy 
woman  now  flung  herself  into  the  prospect  of  ap 
proaching  maternity;  months  distant  it  was  true,  yet 
engrossing  and  alluring,  since  the  knowledge  cf  its 
certainty  gave  rise  to  a  new  hope  within  her.  "Surely 
fatherhood  will  bring  my  husband  to  himself,  prove 
his  salvation,  and  yet  bring  happiness  to  my  life" ;  was 
the  sustaining  belief  upon  which  she  now  allowed  her 
self  to  feed.  But  'a  silk  purse  was  never  yet  made 
out  of  a  sow's  ear/  and  the  coming  of  a  little  daugh 
ter,  which  had  been  such  a  longed  for  joy  to  the  young 
mother  even  though  she  must  risk  her  life  to  bear  it, 
awakened  no  parental  love  in  the  man;  who  turned 
away  as  might  an  Oriental,  when  told  as  to  its  sex, 
grumbling  because  he  could  not  have  had  a  son.  While 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  375 

it's  going,  which  had  helped  the  bereaved  mother- 
practically  alone  in  her  grief — 'to  understand  many 
things/  seemed  also  to  make  but  slight,  if  any  im 
pression  upon  him. 

Little  Gertrude — as  she  would  have  been  called — 
came  into  the  world  such  a  frail  bit  of  humanity,  that 
the  tiny  spark  of  life  animating  her  feeble  frame 
was  soon  snuffed  out.  That  the  little  one  who  had 
come  into  their  life  as  babies  always  do  into  the  lives 
of  their  parents,  'to  teach  them  the  way  to  love,  tell 
them  the  way  to  live,  and  show  them  the  way  to  die/ 
had  been  placed  on  High  as  a  magnet  to  draw  them  to 
Heaven,  the  sorrowing  mother  was  not  slow  to  be 
lieve;  for  'even  in  the  darkest  night  of  death,  hope 
sees  a  star,  and  listening  love  can  hear  the  rustle  of  a 
wing/  And  sweetly  obedient  to  the  heavenly  vision, 
she  strove  to  pass  submissively  under  the  afflicting 
rod,  and  thenceforth  to  set  her  affections  more  fully 
upon  things  above.  And  He  who  had  both  given  and 
taken  away,  had  also  tempered  the  wind,  in  the 
blessed  companionship  of  her  parents'  one  time 
friends;  without  whom,  her  life  in  this  trying  epoch 
would  indeed  have  been  a  'blank,  arid  Sahara/  For 
to  his  habitual  coldness  of  demeanor,  Gerald  had  now 
added  the  habit  of  frequently  absenting  himself  from 
home  for  days  at  a  time,  without  deigning  either  ex 
planation  or  excuse  for  his  absences. 

"If  it  had  only  been  a  boy,"  was  a  delusion  the  dis 
appointed  woman  then  chose  to  hug  to  her  bosom,  re- 


376  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

garding  her  offspring,  "Gerald  would  have  been  satis 
fied,  and  all  would  have  been  different  and  as  I  hoped." 
But  when,  less  than  two  years  later,  a  son  and  heir 
had  been  born  to  the  couple,  its  coming  also  failed  of 
the  desired  result,  for  the  man  was  a  natural  pervert, 
lacking  utterly  in  even  the  instincts  of  father-hood; 
hence,  there  was  no  reformation. 

For  Alice,  however,  the  coming  of  her  child  at  once 
furnished  an  object  upon  which  to  lavish  the  pent  up 
store  of  affection  in  her  intensely  loving  nature. 
'Home  cures  are  surest  for  home  cares';  and  in  the 
welcome  delights  and  responsibilities  of  mother-hood, 
was  found  in  large  measure  a  panacea  for  her  heart's 
ills.  And  when  the  little  one  had  been  with  them  a 
few  months,  hope  for  a  betterment  in  her  domestic 
affairs  sprang  up  and  again  ran  high;  for  Gerald, — 
like  many  another  derelict — having  been  brought  very 
near  to  the  gates  of  death  by  indulgence  in  the  pace 
that  kills,  seemed  to  have  been  brought  also  to  him 
self  by  the  visitation;  and  during  a  long  period  of 
convalescence  which  followed,  one  of  his  old  time 
waves  of  contrition  had  swept  over  the  man,  filling 
him  with  the  deepest,  most  bitter  regret  for  his  wicked 
ways,  and  the  sorrow  and  unhappiness  which  these 
had  entailed  upon  his  devoted  and  forgiving  young 
wife.  For  the  first  time,  too,  he  now  began  to  note 
the  irresistibly  cunning  ways  of  his  offspring,  and  to 
look  with  fatherly  pride  upon  the  budding  intelligence 
of  the  beautiful  boy,  now  arriving  at  an  interesting 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  377 

and  enjoyable  age.  As  he  talked  over  the  little  one's 
future  with  its  equally  proud  mother,  laying  plans 
both  affectionately  and  wisely  for  the  welfare  and  up 
bringing  of  their  son,  no  one,  least  of  all  the  entranced 
wife,  could  have  doubted  the  genuineness  of  his  con 
version  and  sincerity  of  his  expressed  good  intentions. 

"We  will  leave  Paris,  dearie,  for  the  sake  of  our 
precious  child,"  he  proposed  to  her  earnestly,  "and 
never  with  my  permission  shall  he  set  foot  upon  its 
sin-cursed  pavements,  from  whence  the  blood  of  count 
less  pure-minded,  clean-lived  youths  cry  to  Heaven 
for  vengeance;  would  to  God  /  had  never  known  its 
damnable  fascinations!" — he  was  a  glib,  impressive 
talker,  was  Gerald.  "We  will  go  back  home,  sweet 
heart,  and  settle  down  to  the  pure,  healthful  and  in 
spiring  delights  of  life  in  some  quiet,  peaceful  spot, 
away  from  the  distractions  and  temptations  of  a  city; 
and  there,  unknown,  among  strangers,  beginning  life 
afresh,  will  learn  to  love  each  other  anew  and  better, 
while  by  precept  and  example  we  train  our  darling 
boy  up  in  the  way  he  should  go." 

Over-joyed  at  the  change  which  illness  had  wrought 
in  her  husband,  confident  beyond  doubting,  of  happi 
ness  in  store  thence-forth,  delighted  at  the  thought 
of  his  removal  from  associates  and  associations  to 
whose  influence  alone  she  attributed  his  downfall,  and 
impatient  to  leave  the  city  which  had  so  effectually 
shattered  her  high  hopes,  Alice  Harding  lost  no  time 
in  arranging  for  their  return  to  America ;  and  as  soon 


378  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

as  the  penitent  convalescent  had  gained  enough  of 
strength  to  undertake  the  most  easy  and  comfortable 
of  traveling  with  comparative  safety,  the  united,  happy 
little  family  set  sail  for  home. 

In  one  of  the  most  charming  spots  to  be  found  in 
that  artist's  paradise  of  the  Empire  State,  the  pictur 
esque  country  of  Ulster,  none  too  far  from  the  great 
City  for  easy  visits  to  its  many  and  varied  attractions 
as  fancy  should  occasionally  lead  them,  a  gem  of  a 
home  and  small  estate — the  purchase  of  the  wife — 
were  secured;  in  which,  with  seemingly  far  brighter 
prospects  for  happiness  than  had  before  shone  over 
them,  among  strangers,  as  the  husband  had  wished, 
Alice  and  Gerald  Harding  entered  upon  what  surely 
gave  rich  promise  of  proving  a  second,  and  much  more 
lasting  honeymoon. 

But  ours  has  grown  to  be  such  a  small  world,  that 
to  run  away  from  one's  name,  good  or  bad,  lose  one's 
identity,  has  become  a  practical  impossibility;  and 
even  under  suburban  life  in  strange  parts,  the  couple 
could  not  long  remain  unknown.  Although  no  whis 
per  of  the  gossip  reached  their  ears,  the  story  of  wrong 
doing  which  had  previously  so  marred  their  married 
life,  soon  leaked  out;  their  nearest  neighbor  being  a 
lady  who,  during  several  years  of  Gerald's  career  in 
Paris,  had  been  a  student  in  its  Latin  Quarter.  And 
while  the  two  had  never  met,  had  yet  heard  much  of 
his  disgraceful  escapades,  and  shameful  treatment  and 
neglect  of  his  beautiful,  young  wife;  the  subject  being 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  379 

common  gossip  among  the  fraternity.  Not  being  slow 
to  disseminate  her  knowledge,  the  pale,  wasted,  but 
now  repentant  husband  became  vested  with  a  sort  of 
romantic  interest  for  many,  at  least  of  the  feminine 
portion  of  the  community;  while  sweet  Alice  was 
voted  'a  darling;  an  angel';  and  the  devoted  pair  be 
came,  in  a  way,  both  notorious  and  popular  at  once. 

With  enough  of  congenial  company  among  a  few 
easily  accessible  neighbors  of  the  same  class  of  com 
parative  leisure  as  themselves,  and  who,  like  them 
selves,  had  chosen  to  eschew  the  bustle  and  glamour 
of  city  life  for  the  more  restful,  uplifting  contempla 
tion  of  green  hills  and  sylvan  dells,  the  glorious  pano 
rama  of  wooded  mountains,  deep,  wild  ravines  and 
gorgeous  sunsets,  and  the  silvery  music  of  babbling 
brooks  and  tinkling  cow-bells,  even  though  months 
were  required  to  bring  back,  as  before,  the  spent 
strength  of  the  convalescent,  yet  their  ideal  life  to 
gether  during  that  first  Spring  and  Summer  in  their 
native  land,  was  one  of  unbroken  and  incomparable 
delight.  Could  it  but  have  lasted ! 

But  alas !  a  full  return  of  health  and  vigor,  brought 
with  it  also  a  fever  for  the  old  manner  of  existence; 
and  Gerald's  thoughts  and  longings  began  turning 
city-ward,  once  more.  The  simplicity  and  quietude 
of  the  country  began  to  pall ;  he  became  restless,  fidge 
ty,  irritable;  took  to  making  frequent  trips  to  the 
Metropolis  alone;  and  at  length  suggested — quite 
forcibly,  as  was  his  wont — that  they  remove  thither 


380  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

for  the  Winter.  Accordingly,  in  the  early  Autumn, 
loath  as  Alice  felt  to  leave  the  spot  made  inexpressi 
bly  dear  to  her  because  of  the  happy  experiences  of 
her  married  life — the  first  worth  calling  such — which 
had  come  to  her  there,  the  change  was  made.  A  pretty 
apartment  was  taken  in  which  to  live,  and  an  adjoin 
ing  suite  also  engaged  and  fitted  up  as  a  studio,  in 
which  for  a  time,  the  husband — as  promised — carried 
on  the  duties  of  his  profession ;  and  despite  the  knowl 
edge  and  unfavorable  opinion  of  large  cities  in  gen 
eral,  which  her  Parisian  experience  had  thrust  upon 
her,  Alice  Harding  bravely  persisted  in  hoping  the 
best  as  to  her  husband's  conduct,  and  refused  to  enter 
tain  the  uneasy  fears  which  would  at  times  arise  like 
spectres  to  disturb  and  alarm  her.  "New  York  is  not 
Paris,"  she  would  remind  herself,  encouragingly,  "and 
surely  such  gross  wickedness  cannot  prevail  here. 
Beside,  he  has  a  son  to  love  and  live  for  now,  and  he 
is  at  home  with  us  always." 

New  York,  however,  is  no  more  a  stainless  Eden 
than  is  Paris  or  any  other  large  city ;  and  the  particu 
lar  sin  to  which  one  may  have  become  addicted,  can 
find  one  out  as  easily  and  surely  there,  and  furnish 
probably  equal  opportunities  for  its  indulgence. 

And  Gerald  did  not  long  remain  'at  home  always' 
either.  It  was  not  many  weeks  before  he  found  'the 
frequent  temptation  to  leave  my  work  and  run  to  the 
nursery  for  a  frolic  with  the  kid,  too  distracting'; — 
so  he  told  his  wife,  as  prolific  in  plausible  excuses 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  381 

as  ever,  we  see.  'And  then  the  location  was  not  prov 
ing  convenient  enough;  he  must  get  a  studio  further 
down  town.' 

Which  he  did,  of  course,  and  was  soon  in  the  very 
same  toils  as  on  the  other  side;  and  from  his  unrea 
soning  excesses,  seemingly  trying  to  make  up  for  lost 
time.  The  'new  leaf  turned  over  but  those  few 
months  before  had  flown  back;  all  the  professions  of 
repentance,  the  good  resolutions,  the  extravagant 
promises  of  better  doing,  all  were  forgotten.  Poor 
Gerald !  Surely  he  was  of  his  Father,  the  Devil ;  for — 

'When  the  Devil  got  sick,  the  Devil  a  saint  would  be; 
When  the  Devil  got  well,  the  devil  a  saint  was  he/ 

Poor  Gerald?  Yes,  and  poorer  Alice;  in  whose 
long-suffering  heart,  hope  had  been  raised  but  to  be 
crushed  to  earth,  and,  unlike  Truth,  never  to  rise  again. 
For  after  this  backsliding,  the  man's  heart  became 
hardened,  like  unto  Pharaoh's.  He  seemed  as  if  in 
spired  with  an  ambition  to  shine  as  a  profligate,  and 
while  he  began  curtailing  his  income  by  neglecting  his 
profession,  his  means,  much  of  which  had  been  squan 
dered  before  his  illness,  flew  like  the  wind.  Upon  the 
rare  occasions  of  his  visits  home, — which  were  seldom 
made  for  any  other  purpose  than  the  making  of  inso 
lent  demands  upon  his  wife  for  money — he  was  fre 
quently  abusive,  and  even  cruel. 

Thus  did  a  six  months  of  renewed  city  life  drag 
wearily  by;  and  with  the  return  of  Spring,  Alice, 


382  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

anxious  yet  to  save  her  recreant  husband  if  possible, 
pleaded  with  him  earnestly  and  tearfully,  to  return 
with  her  and  the  child  to  their  country  seat,  and  re 
sume  the  sweet  life  of  the  year  before.  But  all  such 
entreaties  were  unavailing.  "I  will  never  bury  myself 
in  that  infernally  stupid  hole  again";  declared  the 
man,  vehemently.  "I  may  run  up  for  a  Sunday  now 
and  then,  but  that's  all  you  need  expect.  The  city's 
no  place  for  you  and  the  kid  though,  during  the  Sum 
mer; — I  shall  probably  not  be  here  much  of  the  time 
myself — and  the  sooner  you  and  he  light  out,  the  better 
I'll  be  pleased";  he  concluded  impudently. 

And  discouraged,  hopeless,  wearied  also  with  the 
struggle,  reluctant  though  she  was  to  leave  her  wilfully 
weak  spouse  so  entirely  to  his  own  devices,  yet  obliged 
to  take  her  child  to  the  fresh,  pure  air  for  which  he  now 
pined,  this  sweet,  young  wife  and  mother  was  now 
compelled  to  return  to  her  former  happy  home  alone. 

It  is  under  the  stress  of  such  and  similar  provoca 
tion,  that  many  a  well-intentioned  one,  disheartened, 
lonely,  desperate,  has  sought  relief  by  yielding  to  the 
temptation  to  slip  her  moorings,  and  begin  to  drift; 
for,  given  a  woman  young  or  of  engaging  personality, 
opportunities  are  nowhere  lacking  for  the  pursuance  of 
such  a  course.  While  others,  availing  themselves  of 
the  law's  intervention,  legitimately  cast  aside  the  irk 
some  bonds.  But  this  wife  was  incapable  of  the  one 
course,  disinclined  to  the  other. 

Could  a  royal  welcome  have  sufficed  to  bring  glad- 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  383 

ness  to  a  heart,  however,  then  should  that  of  Alice 
Harding  been  full  to  overoflwing;  for  during  the  pre 
vious  sojourn ,  of  the  little  family  in  the  community, 
their  inviting  home  had  been  a  favorite  gathering 
place,  and  its  charming  mistress  had  endeared  herself 
to  all;  and  as  she  came  among  them  once  more  with 
out  her  husband,  and  as  was  well  known,  despondent, 
heart  sick, — for  rumors  of  the  life  he  was  again  lead 
ing  her  had  floated  in  to  them  from  time  to  time, — 
their  sympathy,  necessarily  unexpressed  in  words, 
though  it  was,  was  none  the  less  deep  and  lively ;  find 
ing  vent  in  constant  delicate  attentions  and  mutual 
plannings  for  her  entertainment,  which  should  make 
the  unwholesome  seclusion  in  which  she  would  fain 
have  buried  herself,  impossible. 

And  the  Lindsays,  too,  had  come  over  as  promised, 
that  Summer,  to  see  Jack's  little  namesake,  and  to  re 
joice  with  their  young  friends  in  their  continued  hap 
piness.  For  Alice  had  written  the  most  glowing  ac 
counts  for  a  while  after  their  return,  as  to  the  perma 
nence  of  the  change  of  heart  which  they  had  known 
to  have  taken  place  in  her  husband  before  leaving 
Paris ;  which,  after  his  fall  from  grace,  she  had  never 
contradicted.  It  was  a  sad  enough  enlightenment  for 
them  when  they  arrived,  to  learn  the  true  state  of 
affairs.  Yet  their  visit  seemed  to  have  been  as  provi 
dentially  timed  as  was  that  first  meeting  with  their 
needy  friend,  for  during  their  stay,  the  poor  young 
mother  was  again  called  to  pass  through  deep  waters ; 


384  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  one  joy  and  comfort  of  life,  in  whom  her  riven 
heart  was  naturally  altogether  centered,  her  baby 
boy,  now  in  his  critical  second  Summer,  being  sudden 
ly  taken  from  her  during  an  unbearable  spell  of  ex 
ceeding  sultry  August  weather.  And  in  her  awful 
sorrow  this  second  time,  the  bereaved  mother  was 
literally  weeping  alone,  for  the  husband  and  father, — 
who  had  favored  them  with  his  company  but  once 
during  the  entire  season,— was  now  off  with  a  mixed 
party  of  gay  companions,  autoing  through  Europe. 

"I  wish  to  the  Lord  he'd  fall  over  some  precipice 
and  break  his  good-for-nothing  neck"!  was  Hattie 
Lindsay's  angry  comment  to  her  brother — she  was 
given  to  somewhat  forcible  expressions  when  filled 
with  righteous  indignation  on  any  subject, — when  the 
man's  whereabouts  was  at  length  learned,  that  the 
news  of  his  bereavement  might  be  made  known  to 
him. 

"If  wishing  would  bring  it  to  pass,  Sis,  I'd  add  a 
hearty  'Amen' !  to  that,"  replied  her  brother.  "It  would 
be  useless  though,  I  suppose,  for  you  know  a  kind 
Providence  is  said  to  watch  over  children  and  drunken 
men;  and  from  what  I  hear,  the  reprobate's  very 
often  in  that  condition,  now-a-days.  I  can't  under 
stand,  though,  for  the  life  of  me,  why  such  a  worth 
less  cuss  as  he,  is  allowed  to  go  on  living.  It  gets 
me"  I 

"Nor  I,  either";  echoed  his  sister,  disgustedly. 
"Now  if  he  was  out  of  the  way  and  Alice  free,  we 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  385 

could  probably  do  something  with  and  for  her" — they 
had  both  been  urging  a  separation  ever  since  coming 
over — "but  as  long  as  he  lives — and  that  worthless 
kind  never  die, — there'll  be  no  talking  sense  or  rea 
son  to  her,  I'm  afraid.  It's  all  'my  duty  to  my  hus 
band'!  she  scoffed,  "but  no  thought  about  giving  her 
innocent  children  such  a  father.  I'm  beginning  to 
lose  all  patience  with  her,  Jack !  Then,  too,  it's  such  a 
gross  outrage  that  her  young  life  should  be  so  wasted. 
I  believe  in  wifely  duty  up  to  a  reasonable  point  as 
much  as  any  living  soul  does;  but  you'd  never  catch 
me  holding  on  and  trying  to  save  such  a  miserable 
apology  for  a  man  as  he  is,  if  I  was  married — which, 
thank  Heaven,  I'm  not! — and  I'm  old  enough  to  be 
her  mother,  too." 

Could  the  Lindsays  have  taken  their  young  friend 
home  with  them  that  Fall,  they  would  have  returned 
much  happier  and  far  better  pleased  with  her  than  was 
the  case.  But  Paris  now  held  scant  charm  for  Alice 
Harding,  its  memories  being  little  more  than  a  hid 
eous  nightmare;  and  their  pressing  invitation,  there 
fore,  would  have  held  but  slight  temptation,  even  had 
not  both  inclination  and  an  abnormal  sense  of  duty, 
impelled  her  to  remain  near  to  a  little  flower-covered 
mound  in  the  quiet  country  churchyard;  whose  soft 
ening  influence, — as  they  should  mingle  their  tears 
over  it  upon  his  home-coming, — would  at  last,  she 
believed,  prove  her  husband's  saviour.  She  was  there 
fore  deaf  to  all  persuading;  so  in  the  company  of  a 


386  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

congenial,  devoted  companion  of  maturer  years,  faith 
ful  servants,  and  surrounded  by  many  loving  friends, 
they  left  her,  though  unwillingly,  to  her  chosen  vigil. 

Had  the  woman  sat  idly  down  and  brooded  over 
her  crushing  loss  and  the  otherwise  hardness  of  her 
lot,  as  many  like  circumstanced  would  have  done, 
both  mind  and  body  would  perhaps  have  given  way 
under  the  strain.  But  those  very  trials  had  fortunately 
developed  in  her  a  strength  and  fortitude  of  character, 
altogether  unlocked  for  in  one  containing  such  extra 
ordinary  sweetness;  so  that  after  the  first  intense  bit 
terness  of  her  grief  had  given  way  to  a  more  settled 
calm,  realizing  that  her  mind  must  have  some  definite 
and  absorbing  occupation, — and  building  far  wiser 
than  she  knew  at  the  time, — Alice  had  joined  with  her 
companion  in  a  course  of  somewhat  rudimentary  in 
struction  in  the  science  of  medicine  and  nursing,  under 
the  tutelage  of  their  neighborhood  physician;  an  able, 
fatherly  man,  who,  moved  by  deepest  pity  for  her 
trying  situation,  was  more  than  willing  to  give  to  the 
undertaking  the  required  amount  of  his  valuable  time. 

Thus,  with  mind  and  time  much  occupied,  the  weari- 
someness  of  waiting  and  its  wearing  suspense,  were 
both  lessened;  while  through  the  potent  medium  of 
music, — for  which  she  had  been  born  with  a  passion, 
and  of  which  she  was  a  very  creditable  master, — Alice 
Harding  found  the  needed  vent  for  those  recurring 
waves  of  melancholy,  which,  when  emotion  became 
too  impetuous,  could  not  always  be  repressed. 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  387 

Under  these  very  unusual  conditions  of  existences 
nearly  eighteen  more  wearying  months  had  passed; 
their  unvarying  monotony  broken  only  by  an  occa 
sional  letter  from  abroad,  in  which  the  wayward  wan 
derer  would  always  speak  of  an  intended  quick  return. 
But  Winter  and  Spring  and  Summer  and  Autumn  and 
again,  Winter,  had  come  and  gone,  and  by  the  gentle 
power  of  yet  another  Spring,  the  ice-bound  streams 
had  been  freed,  the  hills  were  again  resplendent  with 
verdure,  the  air  vibrant  with  melody  and  laden  with 
perfume ;  and  still  he  lingered  and  caroused.  For  be 
cause  judgment  against  an  evil  work  is  not  speedily 
pronounced,  therefore  the  hearts  of  the  sons  of  men 
are  fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil ;  the  Psalmist  avers. 
But, 

'Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly, 

Yet  they  grind  exceeding  small. 
Though  with  patience  He  stands  waiting, 
With  exactness  grinds  He  all.' 

Neither  in  life  nor  death  did  Gerald  Harding  ever 
reach  home  again;  for  early  that  Summer  (1905)  he 
was  overtaken  by  the  very  fate  invoked  upon  him  by 
his  wife's  indignant  friend.  Reckless  and  incapable 
from  intoxication,  while  guiding  his  car  along  a 
mountain  road  at  break-neck  speed,  he  had  collided 
with  another,  with  such  force  as  to  hurl  him  over  the 
precipice  which,  in  a  spirit  of  dare-deviltry,  he 
hugged;  and  whose  descent  was  so  difficult  and  dan- 


388       ^         BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

gerous,  that  the  mangled  body  was  not  even  recovered. 
The  degenerate  son  of  a  degenerate  sire,  he  had  not 
lived  out  half  his  days,  and  save  for  the  tears  of  pity? — 
surely  it  had  not  been  regret  that  called  them  forth, — 
shed  by  his  patient,  faithful  wife,  the  prodigal  had 
died  unwept. 

"Thank  the  Lord" !  exclaimed  Hattie  Lindsay,  when 
the  news  of  the  man's  untimely  ending  reached  them. 
And  although  there  was  but  little  of  reverence  appar 
ent  in  the  manner  of  expression,  it  was  as  eloquent  of 
honesty  as  was  her  deep  drawn  sigh  of  satisfaction 
and  relief,  as  she  announced,  "I  shall  go  to  Alice  at 
once,  Jack;  not  to  condole  with  her,  you  may  be  sure 
of  that,  but  to  rejoice;  although  I  shall  unfortunately 
be  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  doing  that  openly.  But 
I'll  bring  her  back  with  me,  rest  assured  of  that,  for 
I  feel  that  she  belongs  to  us  now.  I'll  give  her  no 
peace  this  time  until  she  consents  to  come."  A  vow, 
which  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  the  discerning  and  unsel 
fish  sister  more  than  half  believed  would  be  a  particu 
larly  agreeable  one  to  her  attentive  listener. 

"I  hope  you  may  succeed,  Sis,"  returned  the  man, 
heartily;  "and  if  you  do,  we'll  show  her  that  Paris 
isn't  altogether  bad.  That  as  great  and  true  happiness 
may  be  found  here  as  anywhere,  if  it's  looked  for  in  the 
right  ways  and  places." 

Hurrying  a  few  things  into  a  gladstone  and  case, 
the  faithful  friend  had  set  off  for  Liverpool ;  and  for 
tunate  in  catching  a  swift-going  steamer  there  without 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  389 

delay,  was  soon  at  her  loved  one's  side.  Whom,  too, 
she  found  it  not  so  hard  to  persuade,  as  she  had  feared, 
this  time ;  since  the  compelling  invitation  was  accepted 
gratefully,  yes  gladly;  for  in  truth,  the  desolate  heart 
of  the  now  lone  young  woman,  had  long  been  yearning 
for  the  companionship  of  these  dearest,  these  almost 
parental  friends ;  so,  jubilant  at  the  unexpected  success 
of  her  double  errand,  Hattie  Lindsay  had  insisted  upon 
an  immediate  return  with  her  most  welcome  guest,  to 
Paris,  and  Jack. 

Now  it  had  happened  that  from  their  very  earliest  ac 
quaintance,  the  youthful  Alice  had  felt  drawn  to  these 
maturer  friends  much  as  to  parents;  and  while  she 
had  not  always  been  able  to  see  her  way  clear  to  the 
following  of  their  advice,  she  had  nevertheless,  in  each 
case,  been  comforted  with  the  belief  that  she  was  un 
derstood.  And  as  she  now  came  to  them  to  be  their 
guest  a  second  time,  it  was  much  with  the  blissful 
feeling  of  a  child  returning  to  a  loved  and  loving 
father  and  mother,  from  whom  it  had  long  been  sep 
arated. 

In  their  peaceful,  happy  home,  where  appreciation, 
delicately  expressed  sympathy,  and  the  kindliest  con 
sideration  met  her  on  every  hand,  where  the  ruling 
spirit,  the  motive  for  every  action,  seemed  plainly  and 
touchingly  marked  by  a  desire  to  erase  from  her  heart 
and  mind,  as  quickly,  and  as  far  as  might  be  possible, 
the  crushing,  blighting  memories  of  the  past,  Alice, 
contented,  gave  herself  up  thankfully  to  its  soothing, 


390  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

curative  influences,  and  like  a  tired  child,  worn  and 
wearied  both  in  mind  and  body  from  its  too  strenuous 
and  long  continued  play,  at  last,  rested. 

But  we  must  not  digress  nor  loiter  for  minor  details ; 
for  this  story  being  the  record  of  none  but  love  affairs, 
the  tender  passion  is  therefore  the  only  skeleton  upon 
which  we  may  be  permitted  to  build.  And  as  we,  per 
force,  return  to  it  once  more,  we  can  but  hope  that 
the  reader  has  not  become  weary  of  the  sweet  subject. 
No,  nor  ever  will  be ;  for  '  'tis  love,  alone,  can  make 
Earth  beautiful,  and  life  without  regret.' 

Since  Alice  Harding,  physically,  was  almost  an  ex 
act  counterpart  of  her  beautiful  mother — as  Jack  Lind 
say,  it  will  be  recalled,  had  been  impelled  to  remark 
at  their  first  meeting, — and  as  intimate  and  continued 
association  but  revealed  the  more  clearly  in  her  those 
same  admirable  traits  of  character  which  had  not  only 
inspired  his  youthful  love,  but,  though  vain  and  hope 
less,  had  kept  it  alive  and  undimmed  even  to  middle 
life,  which  he  had  by  now  reached,  it  was  neither  un 
natural  nor  strange  that  the  feeling  of  fatherly  interest, 
which,  as  Gertie's  daughter,  he  had  at  first  felt  in  her, 
should  give  place  to  a  deeper,  a  more  personal  emo 
tion.  And  this  change  did  gradually  take  place,  as 
month  after  month  rolled  by,  and  the  object  of  his 
ripening  love  remained  a  cherished  member  of  their 
little  family.  And  patiently  waiting  until  a  proper  re 
gard  for  the  proprieties  should  have  made  a  declar 
ation  of  this  love  fitting, — for  that  the  new-made 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  391 

widow  would  spend  at  least  her  entire  year  of  deepest 
mourning  with  them,  was  the  confident  expectation  of 
her  hosts,— the  hopeful  lover  delighted  in  picturing  to 
himself,  the  closing  years  of  life  filled  with  all  those 
longed-for  joys  and  blessings  which  an  adverse  fate 
had  denied  its  earlier  ones. 

But  of  a  sudden,  came  a  disquieting  day  of  unwel 
come  intelligence ;  when,  after  having  received  a  home 
letter  from  her  companion,  their  guest  announced  to 
them  the  necessity  for  a  speedy  termination  of  her 
delightful  visit. 

"Miss  Griswold  writes  me  that  she  has  gotten  back 
from  her  vacation  and  has  everything  in  readiness  for 
my  reception," — running  her  eye  over  the  letter  as  she 
talked.  "Oh,  no;  I  really  can't  disappoint  her";  she 
continued,  in  response  to  the  immediate  urgings  of  her 
friends  that  she  remain,  "for  this  Winter  will  furnish 
her  a  last  opportunity  to  complete  our  course  of  study, 
and  this  is  an  important  matter  to  her,  you  know,  be 
cause  it  is  costing  her  nothing,  and  she  contemplates 
turning  her  knowledge  to  profit  later  on.  So  you  see, 
I  can  but  go  to  her,  although  you  must  surely  know 
that  I  shall  leave  you  with  much  reluctance." 

Now,  as  may  be  imagined,  the  prospect  of  so  sud 
denly  losing  their  cherished  guest,  was  by  no  means  a 
pleasant  one  to  either  of  her  friends,  and  especially  to 
her  host,  at  this  particularly  critical  time;  whose  mind 
at  the  unexpected  announcement,  at  once  flew,  with 
dread,  to  the  thought  of  the  unfillable  vacancy  her 


392  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

going  would  leave  in  the  home,  for  him,  at  least.  Never 
until  then  had  he  fully  realized  how  very  dear  the 
woman  had  become  to  him,  how  deeply  he  loved  her, 
how  much  he  longed  to  feel  her  sweet  presence  always 
near,  what  a  perfect  joy  and  comfort,  aye  blessing, 
her  life-long  companionship  would  be  to  him.  "No,  I 
cannot  let  her  go,"  he  admonished  himself,  with  un 
hesitating  decision,  "for  in  her  lies  my  last  and  only 
chance  for  a  completed  life  and  happiness.  I  must  tell 
her  of  my  love  even  if  the  time  be  not  fully  ripe.  That 
delays  are  dangerous  was  surely  taught  me  to  my  cost 
and  sorrow,  in  the  case  of  her  dear  mother ;  and  I  must 
not  allow  myself  to  lose  her  treasure  and  mine  by  a 
similar  mistake." 

It  was  at  their  luncheon  that  Alice  Harding  had 
first  spoken  of  going  home;  and  after  a  lengthy  and 
animated  conversation  upon  the  subject,  in  which  both 
brother  and  sister  exhausted  their  stores  of  plea  and 
argument,  Jack  concluded  the  long  homily  with  a  re 
signed — "Well,  Mrs.  Harding,  since  we  can  neither 
coax,  persuade,  nor  intimidate,  but  simply  give  you 
up,  it  seems,  to  Miss  Griswold,  for  whom  you  are  de 
termined  to  leave  us  so  soon,  I  hope  you  can  spare  a 
little  time  this  afternoon  for  a  last  run  down  to  the 
studio.  I've  a  subject  that  I'd  like  your  opinion  on; 
there's  a  sort  of  vexed  question  connected  with  it,  that 
you  can  help  me  settle  better  than  any  one  else.  Will 
you  go"? 

"Thanks;    indeed    I    will,    Mr.    Lindsay"!    replied 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  393 

their  guest;  smiling  with  unmistakable  pleasure  at  the 
prospect.  Then  continuing — "and  be  most  happy  to, 
I  assure  you ;  although  I  fear  my  humble  opinion  will 
be  of  little  value.  But  your  invitation's  both  too  flat 
tering  and  kind  to  refuse.  You  know,  too,  what  a 
treat  a  visit  to  the  studio  always  is  to  me.  At  what 
time  shall  I  be  ready"?  she  finished. 

"I  leave  that  to  your  convenience";  returned  her 
host.  "Only,"  he  added, — anxious  to  free  his  mind  of 
the  Vexed  question/ — I  would  suggest  starting  before 
it  gets  too  late,  for  the  afternoons  are  rather  short 
now,  you  know;  the  light  fades  pretty  early." 

But  although  the  afternoon  was  far  from  spent 
when  they  arrived,  the  light  of  day  had  faded,  and  in 
the  deep,  blue,  wintry  sky,  a  vast  galaxy  of  brilliant 
stars  was  already  beginning  to  glisten  and  twinkle, 
ere  they  emerged  from  the  studio  and  made  their  way 
homewards.  For  they  had  talked  long  and  earnestly 
together,  these  two,  after  that  Alice  had  been  shown 
the  nearly  finished  portrait  of  Miss  Lindsay,  being 
done  by  the  artist-friend  for  her,  as  a  Christmas  sur 
prise. 

"It's  a  perfect  likeness,  and  splendidly  done,  Air. 
Lindsay"!  she  exclaimed  with  delight;  "and  how  can 
I  ever  thank  you  enough  for  it?  You'll  hang  it  for 
me,  in  just  the  right  light,  won't  you,  when  you  bring 
it  over?  You  know  I  shall  expect  you  both  to  spend 
the  Holidays  with  me.  Oh,  how  I  shall  prize  it!  for 
Miss  Lindsay  has  been  a  second  mother  to  me,  and  to 


394  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

have  so  lifelike  a  reminder  of  her  always  in  sight,  will 
make  her  seem  so  much  less  far  away.  I'm  going  to 
miss  you  both  more  than  I  can  say,  dear  friend,"  she 
continued,  with  much  feeling,  "and  shall  never  be 
able  to  fully  express  my  appreciation  of  this,  and  all 
your  many  other  kindnesses  to  me,  I  fear.  You  have 
placed  me  under  such  overwhelming  obligations  as  I 
can  never  hope  to  discharge,  so  matter  how  long  I 
might  live." 

"If  you  are  going  to  speak  of  obligation,  Mrs.  Har 
ding,"  put  in  her  companion,  quickly,  "then  the  bal 
ance  must  ever  incline  to  our  side;  for  you  have  en 
deared  yourself  so  to  us,  that  our  wish  for  you  to  re 
main,  our  unwillingness  to  have  you  leave  us,  pro 
ceeds  from  pure,  downright  selfishness.  You  have 
once  again  brought  the  hope  of  perfect  happiness  to 
my  life,  Alice";  he  now  boldly  affirmed — calling  the 
woman  by  her  given  name  for  the  first  time ;  and  there 
was  a  melting  tenderness  in  his  voice  as  he  breathed 
it.  And  as  he  turned  and  took  her  hands  impulsively 
in  his  own — they  had  been  standing  very  near  each 
other  before  the  unfinished  portrait, — he  went  on, 
apologetically:  "I  hope  you  will  overlook  what  may 
seem  a  premature  declaration  of  my  feelings  towards 
you ;  I  could  have  waited  longer  if  you  would  have 
stayed  with  us ;  but  since  you  will  not,  I  cannot  let  you 
go  without  knowing  my  fate.  I  love  you,  Alice,  and  I 
want  your  promise  to  become  my  wife." 

But  there  being  no  immediate  reply, — for  this  second 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  395 

and  greatest  surprise  had  followed  so  quickly  upon 
the  other  as  to  deprive  the  woman  of  words,  even  of 
thoughts, — this  mature  lover  talked  on,  and  on,  and 
on;  pleading  his  cause  with  much  more  than  the 
vaunted  ardor  and  eloquence  of  youth;  for  in  his 
pleading,  was  voiced  the  first  outpouring  of  the  pent- 
up  longings  of  a  whole  lifetime  of  a  deeply  affectionate 
nature  for  the  delights  of  love. 

"I  had  never  expected  to  transfer  my  affections, 
Alice";  he  told  her  at  last,  in  concluding.  "To  offer 
to  any  other  woman,  the  love  which  would  have  been 
given  to  your  dear  mother.  But  you  are  so  like  her, 
in  you  she  so  lives  again,  that  you  seem  almost  her 
representative;  as  though  one  sent  to  me  in  her  stead. 
And  in  offering  it  to  you,  I  feel  it  to  be  more  a  tangible 
continuance  than  a  transference.  Oh,  will  you  not 
accept  it,  and  give  me  yours  in  return"  ?  he  pleaded. 

Now  the  man's  long  and  fervid  suing  had  been  lis 
tened  to  without  interruption.  No  real  displeasure  had 
been  shown  at  his  declaration,  but  the  unmistakable 
evidences  of  surprise  that  he  had  seen  evoked  by  his 
first  impassioned  words,  had  not  changed  to  those  of 
pleased  surprise  as  he  proceeded,  as  he  could  have 
wished.  Rather  had  they  seemed  to  give  way  to  an 
air  of  polite  attention;  of  patient  waiting  until  he 
might  finish.  In  a  word,  there  had  been  nothing  what 
ever  of  encouragement  or  help  in  the  woman's  attitude 
and  manner ;  and  as  he  ceased  speaking,  she  shook  her 
head  sadly  as  she  replied:  "I  could  have  wished  to 


396  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

spare  you,  of  all  men,  a  disappointment,  Mr.  Lindsay. 
I  feel  it  to  be  indeed  a  great  compliment  you  pay  in 
thus  addressing  me,  but  I  cannot  accept  what  I  cannot 
return,  and  I  have  no  heart  to  give.  I  made  one  love 
less  marriage,"  she  explained, — "for  which,  however, 
believe  me,  there  were  good  and  justifiable  reasons — 
and  I  want  never  to  make  another." 

"Yet,  in  spite  of  everything, — pardon  the  allusion, 
Alice,"  he  put  in,  delicately — "there  were  times  when 
you  had  almost  learned  to  love,  had  you  not?  You 
have  told  us  as  much;  and  surely  you  could  do  the 
same  in  my  case" ! 

"In  your  case,  there  would  be  everything  to  make 
the  task  an  easy  one";  was  the  ingenuous  and  flatter 
ing  reply; — and  given,  moreover,  with  much  of  em 
phasis; — "of  that  I  should  have  not  a  doubt.  But 
learning  to  love  is  not  loving,  Mr.  Lindsay.  It  is  a 
perfunctory  task  that  one  sets  one's  self,  and  like  all 
tasks,  liable  to  become  more  or  less  burdensome  at 
times,  I  fear,  under  any  conditions.  Besides,  I  doubt 
if  it  can  ever  bring  the  most  perfect  happiness  to  either 
party,  as  too  many  considerations  must  necessarily 
enter  into  it;  for  it  is  of  course,  a  gradual  process, 
more  or  less  calculating,-  and  even  if  successful,  the 
sentiment  must  be  tempered  largely  by  admiration, 
gratitude,  the  joy  of  realized  hope,  or  a  sense  of  duty. 
But  loving,  that  is  an  involuntary,  instantaneous  going 
out  of  the  heart.  Is  adoration;  and  therefore,  bliss. 
Learning  to  love  may  be  the  saner  and  safer  course  to 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  397 

pursue,  perhaps,  but  loving,  fills  the  heart  to  reple 
tion!  and  I  speak  from  experience,  Mr.  Lindsay," 
she  concluded,  hurriedly,  almost  breathless;  as  though 
completely  carried  away  with  her  subject. 

"What!  Is  there  then  another,  Alice"?  exclaimed 
her  listener  in  quick  surprise ;  a  note  of  unspeakable 
disappointment  apparent  in  his  tone.  "I  had  no 
thought  of  that  possibility." 

"There  was";  faintly  whispered  his  companion, 
while  instantly  lowering  the  beautiful  eyes,  to  which 
tears  of  sad  remembrance  were  fast  hurrying. 

"And  is"?  he  ventured. 

"Not  now." 

"Nor  ever  will  be"  ?  again  queried  the  lover  eagerly, 
as  though  with  returning  hope. 

"No,  never" ;  replied  the  unhappy  woman ;  an  air  of 
misery,  and  utter  and  abject  hopelessness,  now  pervad 
ing  both  tone  and  manner.  But  soon  raising  her  now 
tear-filled  eyes — in  which  was  a  look  of  mute  appeal — 
to  his,  she  remained  silent  for  yet  a  moment,  struggling 
to  regain  her  composure;  then  faltered,  wearily,  "but 
Oh,  please  let  us  say  no  more  upon  the  subject,  Mr. 
Lindsay." 

"Pardon  me,  Alice,  for  awakening  any  painful  mem 
ories"  ;  begged  the  man,  regretfully ;  placing  an  arm  in 
tender  sympathy  about  his  companion  as  he  spoke.  "I 
did  not  know.  But  since  there  can  never  be  this  other 
one,"  he  pursued,  "why  will  you  not  give  yourself  to 
me,  dearest?  Even  if  you  never  succeeded  in  learning 


398  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

to  love  me,  I  should  be  satisfied ;  for  my  love,  will  be 
deep  enough  and  broad  enough  and  strong  enough 
for  us  both.  Our  kinship  in  the  disappointments  of 
love  will  surely  have  fitted  us  to  understand  each 
other,  and  that  in  itself  will  be  worth  much." 

But  for  answer,  Alice  Harding  once  more,  slowly 
shook  her  head. 

"Is  this  other  and  hopeless  attachment  your  only 
reason  for  refusing  me"  ?  went  on  the  persistent  lover. 
"O,  if  it  is,  darling,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  let  an  idea,  a 
memory,  perhaps,  keep  us  apart !  Think  for  a  moment 
of  all  you  will  be  depriving  me  of ;  while  you,  so  young 
and  alone  in  the  world,  should  not  deny  yourself  love, 
companionship,  protection ;  and  what  more  fitting  than 
that  I,  to  whom  you  are  doubly  dear,  should  offer  you 
these"? 

"It  is  a  memory  only,  that  stands  between  us,  Mr. 
Lindsay";  now  confessed  the  other,  after  a  moment's 
backward  silence,  "for  my  admiration  for  you  is  un 
bounded.  But  that  memory  is  so  very  precious  an  one, 
that  it  will  forever  keep  me  from  marriage  with  an 
other;  the  mere  thought  of  entering  into  such  a  re 
lationship  would  be  obnoxious  to  me.  O,  my  dear, 
good  friend,"  she  then  went  on,  with  a  wistful  plead 
ing,  her  voice  again  tremulous  with  emotion,  "surely 
one  whose  life  has  been  such  a  touching  and  noble 
example  of  undying  love,  as  has  yours,  must  be  able 
to  understand  the  emotions  of  my  heart!  You  have 
found  the  satisfaction  and  joy  of  living,  in  constancy 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  399 

to  a  cherished  memory ;  and  would  you  keep  from  me, 
a  like,  coveted  experience"  ?  she  finished ;  in  manner  to 
upbraid. 

An  ensuing  break  in  the  conversation  after  this  con 
fession  and  appeal,  was  both  prolonged  and  painful; 
the  perturbed  lover,  the  while,  pacing  nervously  back 
and  forth,  from  one  end  of  the  long  and  now  dimly 
lighted  studio  to  the  other,  with  head  inclining  de 
jectedly  towards  his  breast,  his  hands  tightly  clutched 
behind  him.  It  was  a  pause  of  thoughtful,  and  of 
undoubted,  intense  struggle  within  himself ;  a  pause  in 
which  was  enacted  a  heart  tragedy.  Yet  the  manly 
words  which  fell  from  his  lips,  as  he  halted,  at  last, 
before  the  patiently  waiting  woman,  showed  the  per 
fect  unselfishness  of  his  love;  the  trueness  and  worth 
of  it. 

"Alice,"  he  murmured  softly,  though  steadily,  again 
taking  the  dear  one's  hands,  and  looking  down  with  an 
infinitude  of  tenderness  into  her  anxiously  upturned 
face,  "you  make  it  very  hard  for  me  when  you  put  it 
to  me  like  that ;  for  longing  has  been  inexpressibly  in 
tense,  and  hope — may  I  say  it? — very  strong.  But 
you  also  strike  a  chord  in  my  heart,  tuned  to  the  same 
minor  strains  as  those  in  your  own.  I  do  understand, 
dear,  and  therefore  I  cannot  ignore  your  plea.  Your 
happiness  is  far  dearer  to  me  than  my  own,  and  if  it 
would  in  any  degree  be  lessened  by  becoming  my  wife, 
I  could  not  ask  it  of  you;  so  I  will  urge  you  no  fur 
ther.  I  will  not  even  sav  that  I  shall  continue  to 


400  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

hope,  and  thus,  as  it  were,  attach  a  string  to  my  re 
nunciation,  for  that  might  annoy  and  fret  you.  But 
Alice,  my  love  for  you  will  never  die.  With  time, 
your  aversion  to  matrimony  may,  and  if  it  ever  does, 
dear,  you  will  find  some  way,  I  trust,  of  letting  me 
know ;  for  I  shall  be  waiting  for  you/' 

"Your  comprehension  is  truly  most  comforting, 
dear  friend,  and  your  consideration  equally  touching" ; 
answered  the  relieved  woman,  gratefully  smiling  up 
at  her  companion,  "and  in  face  of  it,  I  shall  appear 
cold  and  heartless  indeed,  I  fear,  when  I  bid  you  re 
linquish  all  hope,  even  for  a  change  in  my  sentiments 
toward  matrimony.  But  I  feel  that  I  may  and  should 
say  to  you  candidly,  at  this  time,  that  there  is  absolutely 
no  ground  upon  which  for  you  to  build  such  a  hope, 
since  my  objection  is  not  to  marriage  in  itself,  but  to 
another  loveless  one ;  and  I  have  no  heart  for  any  one 
but  him  for  whom  it  was  made,  and  whose  alone,  it 
has  always  been ;  not  even  for  you.  But  oh,  I  do 
hope  that  my  refusal  will  not  cost  me  your  invaluable 
friendship,  Mr.  Lindsay.  I  may  still  count  upon  that, 
may  I  not"?  she  pleaded.  "I  need  it  so  much.  In 
your  home  I  have  found  such  a  blessed  haven  of  rest ; 
in  you  and  Miss  Lindsay,  just  such  a  source  of  sym 
pathy  and  encouragement  amid  the  sorrows  and  trials 
of  life,  as  I  should  have  had  in  my  dear  parents.  Not 
because  of  the  difference  in  our  ages,"  she  inter 
jected  quickly,  as  in  apology,  "for  believe  me,  Mr. 
Lindsay,  that  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  my 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  401 

unwillingness  to  become  your  wife,  but  because  of  the 
deep  and  tender  interest  that  you  have  both  shown  in 
my  welfare  and  happiness;  and  I  could  not  bear  to 
lose  you  as  my  very  dearest  and  best  of  friends." 

"Nor  will  you,  Mrs.  Harding";  returned  the  man, 
with  hearty  re-assurance.  "Have  no  fears  upon  that 
score,  for  our  pride  and  pleasure  in  being  able  to 
claim  friendship  with  so  noble  a  woman  as  yourself, 
nothing,  least  of  all  the  discovery  of  yet  another  lov 
able  trait,  can  lessen.  Forget  that  I  have  aspired  to  a 
nearer  and  dearer  relationship  than  that  of  friend,  or 
remember  it  only  to  the  more  perfectly  understand  the 
very  high  esteem  in  which  I  hold  you;  and  make  me 
happy  now,  by  assuring  me  that  you  will  come  to  me 
as  freely  for  advice,  sympathy,  or  protection  even, 
should  you  ever  be  in  need  of  either,  as  you  would 
have  done  before  I  had  spoken  to  you  of  love.  For 
unless  I  can  believe  that  you  will  do  that,  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  forgive  myself  for  having  disturbed  our 
sweet  association  of  the  past." 

"Can  you  doubt  that  I  will  be  rejoiced  to  do  so, 
Mr.  Lindsay"?  came  the  instantaneous  response.  "I 
shall  indeed  hope,  by  that  very  means,  to  in  some  slight 
degree  show  my  gratitude  for  the  unselfishness  which 
has  made  such  a  course  possible;  and  for  which  I 
thank  you  most  sincerely,"  added  the  grateful  woman. 
"It  means  more  to  me  than  you  could  have  foreseen, 
too,  for  had  it  been  otherwise,  I  could  not  have  carried 
out  a  project  that  I  have  had  in  mind  of  late,  and  to 


402  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  consummation  of  which  I  have  been  looking  for 
ward  with  the  happiest  anticipation.  I  want  to  dis 
pose  of  my  interests  in  America  and  come  to  Paris 
to  live,  where  I  may  be  always  with  Miss  Lindsay  and 
you.  That  is,"  she  finished  inquiringly,  "if  it  would 
not  be  objectionable  or  unpleasant  for  you  to  have  me 
do  so,  now"  ? 

On  the  contrary,  it  will  be  decidedly  the  reverse  of 
both,  Mrs.  Harding,"  replied  her  friend,  his  pleased 
surprise  very  apparent,  "and  you  could  not  have  told 
me  more  agreeable  news.  Sister  and  I  both  feel  that 
you  belong  to  us,  as  it  were,  and  I  sincerely  hope  that 
the  happiness  your  coming  will  bring  us  may  not  be 
long  delayed." 

"And  so  do  I,"  returned  Alice,  frankly,  "for  I  have 
become  most  anxious  for  the  change.  I  shall  go  back 
to  Miss  Griswold  and  our  studies  for  the  Winter,  as  I 
promised ;  and  then  by  Spring,  I  trust  her  affairs  will 
have  so  shaped  themselves  that  I  shall  not  longer  feel 
it  obligatory  upon  me,  in  a  way,  to  provide  her  a  home, 
but  instead,  may  feel  free  to  indulge  my  own  inclina 
tions;  in  which  case,  I  shall  soon  be  with  you  again." 

"The  sooner  the  better,  dear  friend,"  responded  the 
rejected  lover,  heartily,  with  a  well  feigned  show  as 
of  cheerful  resignation  at  the  prospective  parting. 
"And  now,  shall  we  make  for  home,  to  share  the  good 
news  for  the  future  with  Sis  ?"  he  finished. 


CHAPTER  X. 
ROBERT  MANNING'S  TRANSGRESSIONS. 

"Strength  of  will  in  proportion  to  physical 
strength  seemed  strangely  so  lacking  in  him 
at  this  time,  that  Ichabod  might  most  fittingly 
have  been  inscribed  over  the  gateway  to  his 
young  manhood." 

It  is  a  somewhat  far  cry,  from  Paris,  France,  to 
San  Francisco,  California,  U.  S.  A. ;  yet  thither  the 
trend  of  our  story  now  compels  us  to  journey,  for  we 
must  learn  how  it  has  fared  with  our  young  friend, 
Robert  Manning;  who,  embittered  and  cynical,  it  will 
be  remembered,  had  sought  for  possible  relief  from 
the  pangs  of  disappointed  love,  by  a  change  of  resi 
dence  to  the  last  named,  pleasure-loving  city. 

Nigh  on  to  six  years  had  now  elapsed,  since  that 
glorious  morn  amid  the  mountains  of  Colorado,  when, 
as  a  youthful  but  deeply  anxious  suitor,  he  had  for 
mally  made  an  impassioned  declaration  of  his  life 
long  love  to  Alice  Nichols,  and  been  relieved  and 
cheered  by  the  girl's  acknowledgment  of  a  perfect  re 
turn,  and  the  promise  of  her  heart  and  hand  in  mar 
riage,  when  added  years  and  the  completion  of  his 
preparation  for  a  man's  work  in  the  world,  should 
have  won  for  him  his  coveted  reward;  the  privilege 
of  claiming  her  as  his  own. 


404  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

If  the  reader  will  hark  back  in  memory  to  the  stir 
ring  scenes  of  that  momentous  morning,  he  will  recall 
how  earnestly,  and  impressively,  the  tortured  youth 
had  pleaded  for  fidelity  upon  the  part  of  the  girl. 
That  she  would  wait  for  him,  and  never  allow  her 
heart  to  be  drawn  away  by  the  blandishments  of  his 
dreaded  rival,  Gerald  Harding. 

'I  can  stand  his  loving  you,  Alice,  as  long  as  you 
don't  return  it;  but  I  couldn't  stand  if  you  did,  really 
I  couldn't,  for  my  heart's  been  bound  up  in  you  too 
long  and  too  completely  for  that.  I  believe  it  would 
kill  me,'  were  a  part  of  his  thrilling  words,  'but  if  it 
didn't  quite  do  that,  it  would  change  me  so  that  I 
would  better  be  dead ;  I  can  feel  that  it  would,  Alice ; 
that  I  should  never  be  the  same  again.'  And  the  be 
smirched  record  of  the  passing  years,  had  alas !  borne 
only  too  convincing  testimony,  to  the  unerring  pre 
science  of  the  youth  as  to  the  composition  and  work 
ings  of  his  own  nature. 

Now — 

Hope  entertained,  excites  the  heart, 
To  pleasurable  emotion ; 

and  since  it  had  been  with  the  most  confident  hope  for 
good  results  in  the  case  of  her  discarded  son,  that 
Margaret  Manning  had  consented  to  leave  all  those 
cherished  surroundings,  so  inexpressibly  dear  to  a 
heart  such  as  hers,  and  take  up  her  abode  in  new  and 
strange  parts,  that  the  peace  of  mind  and  welfare  of 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  405 

the  idolized  one  might  thereby  be  enhanced, — to  a 
mother  such  as  she  the  most  vital  concern  in  life, — it 
had  therefore  been  with  even  'pleasurable  emotion/ 
that  she  had  hastened,  at  his  request,  to  turn  her  back 
upon  the  old  home,  haunted  as  it  was,  for  him,  by  the 
ghosts  of  so  many  heart-rending  memories,  and  set 
up  a  new  one  in  the  unmemoried  city  of  his  choice; 
where,  upon  the  clean,  spotless  pages  of  a  new  book 
of  life,  all  future  happenings  might,  with  a  reasonable 
degree  of  certainty,  be  expected  to  emblazon  them 
selves  in  shining  characters  of  light.  And  to  this  end, 
the  most  untiring  and  constant  effort  had  been  put 
forth  to  make  of  that  home  first,  a  peaceful,  blessed 
haven  of  rest,  and  second,  a  centre  of  joy  and  bright 
ness. 

Now,  'he  who  would  have  friends  must  show  him 
self  friendly' ;  hence,  little  as  her  natural  tenacity  and 
reserve  of  disposition  inclined  her  to  the  forming  of 
new  intimacies, — for  when  all  has  been  said  and  done, 
it  must  be  admitted  that,  save  in  rare  instances,  new 
friendships,  at  their  best,  seem  somehow  to  lack  just 
that  intangible  something  which  would  make  them 
quite  as  dear  to  the  heart  as  are  the  old, — the  devoted 
mother  had  responded  with  such  gracious  and  attrac 
tive  cordiality  to  the  overtures  of  new-found  acquain 
tances,  that  a  circle  of  very  enjoyable  associates 
should  soon  have  been  theirs;  while  the  musical 
talents  of  both,  would  also  have  proven  for  them  an 
open  sesame  into  the  charms  of  music's  delightful 
world. 


406  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

But  Robert,  now  a  hater  of  his  kind, — a  critic  even 
of  his  God, — because  of  the  selfishness  of  one  man, 
the  supposed  perfidy  of  one  girl,  would  have  none 
of  them ;  but  wholly  unappreciative  of  his  mother's 
loving  offices  in  his  behalf,  and  indifferent,  seemingly, 
to  the  lonely  life  to  which  his  course  must  inevitably 
consign  her,  in  moody  moroseness,  persisted  in  shut 
ting  himself  out  from  all  the  healing  influences  of 
social  intercourse,  and  in  an  abnormal  hardening  of 
heart  against  sympathy  for  his  fellows,  while  un 
justly  cherishing  a  sentiment  of  rancorous  resentment 
against  them. 

Perhaps  never,  was  there  a  more  striking  exempli 
fication  of  that  trite  old  saying  that  'we  none  of  us 
know  one  another/  than  in  his  case;  for  surely,  we 
who  have  had  knowledge  of  his  many  noble  and 
admirable  characteristics  from  childhood,  could  never 
have  foreseen  his  transition  from  the  unusually  lov 
ing,  unselfish  son,  into  one  in  whom  the  very  demon 
of  selfishness  now  seemed  regnant. 

At  the  same  time,  that  sublimely  selfless  mother 
love  which,  asking  for  so  little  in  return,  demands 
nothing  and  accepts  even  less,  with  almost  abasing 
alacrity,  aye,  oftentimes  with  almost  fawning  adula 
tion;  which  seems  to  count  it  as  joy  to  be  privileged 
to  unloose  the  shoes  latchet  of  an  unworthy  child, 
that  love,  held  such  contrasting  sway  in  the  heart  of 
the  disappointed  and  sorely  tried  mother,  that  never 
might  so  much  as  the  thought  of  reproach  find  lodg- 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  407 

merit  there ;  so  filled  to  overflowing  was  it  with  yearn 
ing  sympathy,  though  burdened  with  sorrow  and  with 
anxious  forebodings  as  to  the  ultimate  effect  upon 
him,  of  the  unhealthy  mental  and  spiritual  atmosphere 
in  which  the  morbid  young  man  seemed  determined 
to  live. 

True,  there  were  unbearable  moments,  when  in  se 
cret  rebelling  against  the  seeming  injustice  of  it  all, 
her  heart  would  cry  out, — 'Oh,  why  was  this  heavy 
trial  sent  upon  me!  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  so 
dreadful  a  punishment  as  this!  Oh,  why  could  it  not 
all  have  been  different'?  Yet  all  such  outbursts  would 
invariably  end  in  a  sense  of  subdued  thankfulness 
that  worse  had  not  befallen;  worse,  in  that  her 
now  misanthropic  boy  should  have  sought  solace  for 
his  woes  in  ruinous  dissipation;  for,  in  fairness,  it 
must  be  said,  that  up  to  this  point,  she  had  been  spared 
this  added  sorrow, — common  enough  in  like  cases. 

And  in  truth,  great  cause  had  the  mother  for  the 
deepest  thankfulness  upon  this  score;  for  though  un 
known  to  her,  yet  because  of  love  for  her,  Robert  was 
now  waging  an  heroic  struggle  against  the  temptation 
to  just  such  a  course;  a  struggle,  which  many  times 
threatened  to  prove  an  unequal  one  and  end  in  failure. 
But  possessed,  fortunately,  of  an  ambition  to  rise  in 
the  world,  his  salvation  had  lain  in  an  overwhelming 
immersion  of  himself  in  his  work ;  and  being  both  apt 
and  diligent,  his  devotion  had  been  rewarded  with  ad 
vancement  of  which  she  might  well  be  and  was,  justly 
proud. 


408  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Yet  while  his  success  had  been  gratifying  to 
the  pride  of  both,  it  had  brought  to  the  young  man 
himself,  not  unmixed  happiness;  for  although  he  had 
won  the  open  appreciation  of  his  employers,  the  pleas 
ure  of  this  had  been  in  a  measure  offset  by  the  envy, 
and  consequent  ill-will,  of  his  fellow-workers,  while 
his  self-centered  aloofness  with  both,  had  effectually 
shut  him  out  from  the  love  of  both;  so  that  he  stood, 
as  it  were,  alone  among  them. 

But  gratifying  as  merited  advancement  may  be,  all 
work  and  no  play  is  apt  to  make  Jack  not  only  a  dull 
boy,  but  in  time,  a  bad  one  as  well.  The  imperative 
need  for  rejuvenating  relaxation  upon  the  part  of  her 
creatures,  is  written  in  unmistakable  characters  all 
over  the  face  of  Nature.  The  glowing  skies  at  even 
tide;  the  leafless  trees  of  Autumn;  the  ebbing  tides 
upon  the  shore;  all  speak  of  a  period  of  restful  re 
freshment.  Yet  Robert's  relaxations,  even,  had  been 
altogether  lacking  in  healthful  variety,  since  they  had 
been  little  more  than  a  burying-  of  himself  in  books ; 
truly  the  most  exhilarating  and  lasting  of  tonics,  as 
well  as  the  best  of  friends,  if  properly  chosen,  but  the 
subtlest  of  poisons  and  worst  of  foes,  if  not;  and  in 
harmony  with  the  now  hard,  rebellious  attitude  of  his 
mind  towards  life  and  the  world,  his  omnivorous  read 
ing  had  been  little  calculated  to  uplift  or  strengthen 
by  increasing  his  faith  in  the  goodness  and  wisdom 
of  his  God,  and  the  integrity  of  his  fellow  men. 
Thus  had  the  depressing  years  gone  by;  one,  two, 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  409 

three.  Years  whose  exceptional  history  we  have  but 
merely  outlined,  because  that  the  unwholesome  mo 
notony  of  the  disheartening  days  as  they  came  and 
went,  had  furnished  so  few  of  heartening  details 
with  which  to  fill  in  the  sketch.  Yet  do  we  shrink 
less  from  the  mention  of  this  dearth  of  heartening 
detail,  which  the  disappointing  days  had  known,  than 
from  the  bitter  happenings  which  steeped  so  many 
subsequent  ones  in  sadness  and  shame  and  gloom; 
but  since  such  knowledge  is  necessary  to  the  comple 
tion  of  our  story,  nothing  but  unwarranted  delay  can 
result  from  the  longer  withholding  of  them  from  the 
reader;  so  without  further  preamble,  we  make  known 
the  sad  fact,  that  the  temptation  which  had  for  long 
been  luring  Robert  Manning  to  seek  rest  and  quietude 
of  heart  in  the  deadening  bowl,  at  length  gained  the 
mastery. 

Nor  was  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  young  man 
should  have  ultimately  arrived  at  this  enslaved  con 
dition  ;  for  we  know  that  there  is  always  a  pre-deter- 
mining  mental  cause,  or  causes,  for  every  physical 
state.  Has  not  Hippocrates,  the  Father  of  Medicine, 
in  averring  that  our  natures  are  the  physicians  of  our 
diseases,  implied  also  the  responsibility  of  those  na 
tures  for  the  existence  of  disease?  And  surely  our 
latter-day  authorities  assert  with  equal  boldness,  that 
being  a  gregarious  animal,  the  social  factor  counts 
for  so  much  in  mankind,  that  ordinarily,  people  do 
not  thrive,  but  pine,  when  they  live  or  work  or  eat 


410  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

alone;  and  also,  that  a  sedentary  life, — such  as  this 
young  man  had  lived  both  in  his  work  and  recreation, 
— is  an  unbalanced  existence,  in  which  the  life  force, 
in  its  struggle  for  manifestation  along  physical  lines, 
causes  a  feeling  of  unrest;  to  overcome  which,  many 
people  take  to  drink. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  we  know  that  from  the  first,  al 
though  by  nature  genial,  Robert  Manning  had  with 
drawn  from  companionship,  and  spurning  sympathy, 
had  shut  himself  up  with  a  steely  heart  in  the  closet 
of  memory,  alone  with  his  burdensome  grief;  than 
which  nothing  can  bring  about  a  more  unhealthy 
physical  or  spiritual  tone.  The  one  cloud  upon  the 
horizon  of  his  life,  he  had  unwisely  allowed  to  ob 
scure  the  abounding  blue  of  its  skies.  He  had  re 
membered  only  the  stinging  bed  of  nettles  which  had 
suddenly  sprung  up  to  border  his  pathway,  forgetful 
of  the  broad  meadows,  carpeted  with  their  soft  green 
grass,  through  which  it  lay;  he  had  peered  only  into 
the  impenetrable  midnight,  with  its  thick  darkness; 
blinding  the  eyes  of  his  soul  to  the  sublime  mysteries 
of  the  dawn,  the  fierce  yet  blessed  brightness  of  the 
noonday,  the  entrancing  beauties  of  the  sunset's  after 
glow,  the  reposeful  calm  of  twilight.  He  had  so  suf 
fused  his  being  with  the  enervating  miasma  of  gloomy 
thoughts,  that  after  three  years  of  ineffectual  strug 
gle  amid  the  unfavorable  conditions  with  which  he 
had  seen  fit  to  surround  himself,  his  weakened  will 
had  become  unequal  to  the  contest,  and  he  had  been 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  411 

drawn  into  the  threatening  maelstrom  of  strong  drink. 
He  had  fought,  'tis  true;  but  he  had  not,  like  a  good 
soldier,  endured  to  the  end. 

Oh,  how  many  a  doting  mother  has  been  called  to 
drink  of  the  same  'waters  of  Marah/  from  which  his 
now  drank  to  the  full !  And  not  the  least  of  her  sor 
row  perhaps,  was  the  remembering  of  happier  things ; 
sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow ;  as  the  Laureate  has  put  it. 
The  calling  to  mind  of  days  when  Life  had  seemed 
to  regard  her  happiness  as  its  especial  object  of  con 
cern  and  favor;  so  lavish  had  been  its  gifts.  And 
even  when  an  evil  hour  had  fallen  upon  her,  wherein 
must  be  meted  out  a  bitter  cup,  had  yet  sweetened  it 
with  the  unselfish  consideration  of  her  noble  boy,  and 
an  inspiriting  vision  of  the  v/onderful  promise  of  his 
future. 

But  now — how  changed  it  all  was !  And  the  full 
significance  and  extent  of  the  change  had  never  been 
really  borne  in  upon  her,  until  a  season  of  haunting 
fear  had  given  way  to  vague  suspicion,  and  suspicion 
had,  in  turn,  been  made  certainty,  on  one  never-to-be- 
forgotten  night ;  when,  hoping  against  hope,  with  anx 
ious  heart  and  tense  nerve,  she  had  waited  and  listened 
for  the  young  man's  belated  homecoming;  starting  at 
every  unusual  sound,  straining  her  ear  to  catch  every 
faintest  echo  which  fell  upon  it;  until  in  the  early 
hours  of  another  day,  her  heart  had  sickened  to  hear 
his  stumbling  feet  unsteadily  mounting  the  steps  which 
led  to  their  home.  And  when  the  door  to  which  she 


412  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

had  wearily  dragged  herself  to  admit  him  opened,  and 
he  had  lurched  forward  into  the  hall,  cursing  the  key 
hole  which  had  eluded  him, — Oh,  the  dense  blackness ; 
the  inconceivable  agony  of  a  moment  like  that,  to  a 
mother  such  as  Robert  Manning's! 

'The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness' ;  and  it  would 
therefore  be  vain  for  another  to  attempt  to  depict  the 
horrors  of  those  awful  hours,  as  the  so  cruelly  enlight 
ened  mother  sat,  weeping  and  praying  by  turns  at  the 
bedside  of  her  'only  joy,'  now  lying  in  a  beastly  stupor, 
sleeping  off  the  effects  of  intoxication.  Nor  would  it 
perhaps  be  any  less  impossible  to  portray  the  shame,  the 
remorse,  the  loathing  of  himself  which  filled  the  heart 
of  the  culprit  when  he  at  length  awakened,  sobered 
and  again  himself,  to  look  up  into  the  saddened,  sor 
rowful  face,  fixed  with  such  tender  yearning  upon  his 
own.  The  face  to  which  the  visible  lines  of  suffering 
and  the  heavy  eyes  with  their  reddened,  swollen  lids, 
seemed  to  have  added  years  since  he  had  left  her  the 
evening  before — 'for  a  little  while,'  as  he  told  her, — 
with  a  careless  goodbye,  which  for  once,  had  lacked 
the  customary,  even  if  now,  at  times,  perfunctory  kiss 

"I  don't  ask  you  to  forgive  me,  mother";  he  had 
told  her,  after  a  long  tirade  of  the  most  bitter,  but 
alas!  vain  denunciation  of  himself;  "for  it  cannot  be 
that  a  mother's  love,  not  even  one  like  yours,  can 
overlook  such  cruel  ingratitude  as  I  have  been  guilty 
of.  Nor  should  you,  for  I  don't  deserve  it;  although 
my  heart  has  become  such  a  load  within  me  of  late, 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  413 

mother,  that  it  seemed  I  simply  must  have  something 
to  distract  me,  to  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  re 
member,  for  a  while,  in  order  to  go  on  living  at  all. 
And  in  fact,"  he  went  on  to  affirm,  "if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  jthought  of  leaving  you  alone,  I  should  have 
put  an  end  to  it  all  before  now.  But  yet  I  do  ask  you 
for  what  will  be  even  harder  to  give,  I  fear,  your  con 
fidence.  Only  let  me  feel  that  I  have  that  once  more, 
Mother,"  he  begged,  "as  I  had  it  in  those  better  and 
happier  days  when  I  was  more  worthy  of  being  called 
the  son  of  my  parents,  and  I  vow  to  Heaven!  that 
this,  my  first  over-indulgence, — which  was  not  to  sat 
isfy  a  taste  for  the  vile  stuff,  which  I  loathe,  but  to 
help  me  forget, — shall  never  be  repeated." 

"A  mother's  love,  my  dear  child,"  replied  the  weep 
ing  mother,  tenderly,  "concerns  itself  only  with  the 
excusing  of  an  offense ;  not  forgiving ;  for  in  her  heart 
resentment  finds  no  place;  while  as  for  my  confi 
dence,  it  is  absolute;  for  I  feel  sure  that  you  could 
never  bring  yourself  to  cause  me  such  suffering  as  you 
have  tonight,  a  second  time." 

"Thank  you,  mother,  for  your  free  and  loving  for 
giveness  and  unhesitating  confidence;  that  is  all  I  can 
say";  faltered  Robert,  with  moist  eye,  and  a  grateful 
pressure  of  the  loved  hand  held  clasped  within  his 
own.  "But  of  one  thing  you  may  be  certain;  I  will 
never  grieve  you  again  by  yielding  to  this  temptation ; 
never!" 

"I  know  you  will  not,  Robert,  and  yet  I  have  long 


414  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

feared  for  just  such  a  climax  as  this  to  the  course  you 
have  been  pursuing";  returned  the  mother,  gently. 
"This  steeling  of  your  heart  against  all  healing  influ 
ences,  and  cherishing  such  vindictive  thoughts  and 
feelings  towards  your  Heavenly  Father, — the  infinite 
love  and  wisdom  of  whose  dealings  with  them,  none 
of  his  creatures  should  presume  to  question, — has 
worried  me  beyond  measure,  as  you  know.  It  has 
been  the  bitterest  drop  in  my  cup  of  sorrow,  to  see 
the  glorious  promise  of  your  boyhood  and  youth  in 
this  respect,  unrealized;  and  could  I  even  now,  hear 
you  say,  regarding  this  temptation — 'by  the  grace  of 
God,'  rather  than,  'I  vow  to  Heaven/  it  would  be 
most  cheering  to  me;  for  I  should  see  in  it  a  more 
promising  spiritual  tone,  which  would  lead  you  to  look 
to  the  Source  of  all  strength,  to  keep  you  from  fall 
ing." 

"Our  ideas  differ  as  to  the  looking  to  the  'Source 
of  all  strength/  to  which  you  allude,  Mother,"  re 
turned  the  son,  reverently ;  "but  perhaps  the  difference 
is  more  in  form  than  effect.  You  know  I  believe  that 
one  can  be,  what  he  wills  to  be;  and  I  see  now  that 
my  mistake, — sin  if  you  will,  hitherto, — has  been  in 
not  exercising  my  will  as  I  should.  But  your  assurance 
of  unshaken  confidence  in  me,  will  make  me  stronger 
to  do  so  now ;  and  you  will  hereafter  find  me  the  good 
and  true  son  that  I  would  and  should  be ;  of  that  you 
can  rest  assured,  best  and  dearest  of  mothers,"  he 
concluded;  clasping  his  reassured  parent  in  his  arms, 
and  kissing  her  again  and  again. 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  415 

"Very  good,  my  son,"  answered  the  hopeful  mother, 
approvingly.  "I,  too,  believe  emphatically  in  the 
power  of  the  human  will,  but  not  unaided,"  she  went 
on  to  qualify,  "for  it  is  so  woefully  hampered  by  the 
weaknesses  of  the  flesh.  So  'watch  and  pray,  that 
you  enter  not  into  temptation'  my  precious  child,  and 
may  God  be  very  sensibly  with  you  always." 

The  great  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  when  he  ex 
claimed,  'To  will  is  present  with  me,  but  how  to  per 
form  that  which  I  would,  I  find  not' ;  while  voicing,  as 
he  did  in  that  epigrammatic  form,  the  disheartened 
plaint  of  struggling,  sinning  humanity  as  a  whole, 
might  as  truly  have  been  rehearsing  the  individual 
experiences  of  Robert  Manning,  whose  'first  over-in 
dulgence'  alas !  proved  not  to  be  his  last ;  although  we 
considerately  drop  the  veil  of  silence  over  the  sad 
scenes  attending  his  subsequent  lapses;  more  and 
more  frequent  in  their  recurrence  as  the  fatal  appetite 
for  itself  which  alcohol  creates,  became  dominant 
enough  to  often  over-ride  the  one  deterring  influence 
still  active  within  him;  his  unquestionably  deep  love 
for  his  mother. 

Yet  could  he  see  that  mother's  hair  silvering,  her 
eye  losing  the  brightness  and  her  step  the  spring  of 
hope,  see  her  fading,  ageing  prematurely,  through 
eating  out  of  her  heart  because  of  him,  and  still  be 
deluded  into  the  supposition  that  his  transient  periods 
of  forgetfulness,  offset  the  subsequent  billows  of  re 
morse  which  rolled  over  his  unhappy  soul.  His  con- 


416  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

duct  both  angered  and  excited  to  pity ;  for  now  in  the 
very  flower  of  life, — he  had  reached  his  twenty-fifth 
year,  and  a  splendid-looking  six-footer  he  was,  who 
appeared  not  to  carry  a  single  ounce  of  superfluous 
flesh  in  his  two  hundred  avoirdupois, — with  a  naturally 
determined  and  forceful  character,  strength  of  will 
in  proportion  to  physical  strength  seemed  strangely 
so  lacking  in  him  at  this  time,  that  'Ichabod'  might 
most  fittingly  have  been  inscribed  over  the  gate-way  to 
his  young  manhood.  Should  we  have  looked  for  the 
secret  of  his  decline,  however,  it  would  not  have  been 
hard  to  find ;  Robert  had  been  brought  up  in  the  way 
he  should  go,  but  he  had  unwisely  chosen  to  repudiate 
the  God  of  his  fathers. 

How  gladly  would  we  refrain  from  reference  to 
the  two  years,  the  one  preceding,  the  other  following 
this  period;  omit  the  dark  chapter  which  their  history 
injects  into  our  story;  but  we  may  not.  The  constant 
fear  and  dread,  the  alternations  between  despair  and 
hope,  incident  to  the  periodical  transgressings  and  re- 
pentings,  laid  upon  the  distraught  mother  all  and  more 
than  she  could  well  bear  of  heart-ache,  and  wrought 
in  her  the  many  disastrous  effects  of  deep,  wearing 
anxiety.  Anxiety,  too,  unrelieved  by  even  an  occas 
ional  expression  of  friendly  sympathy;  for  Robert's 
altered  habits  must  be  concealed  from  the  very  few 
friends  whom  she  had  allowed  herself  to  cultivate; 
and  from  the  smiling  exterior  presented  to  the  world, 
none  could  have  guessed  her  bitter  secret. 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  417 

Oh,  how  real  and  vivid  now  became  that  portion  of 
the  poet's  words :  'All  that  grief  hath  known  of  hopes 
laid  waste,  Knells  in  that  word — Alone!'  for  aside 
from  the  loving  and  encouraging — 'Don't  be  a  grievin' 
so,  me  darlint!  sure  an'  it's  betther  days  that's  a 
comin';  ventured  now  and  again  by  the  faithful  old 
servant, — who  could  not  long  be  kept  in  ignorance  of 
the  doings  of  her  young  master, — there  was  no  com 
forting — 'Be  of  good  cheer,'  whispered  in  her  ear,  to 
fan  the  oft-times  flickering  flame  of  hope. 

Yet,  though  unsought,  outside  sympathy  did  come 
at  last;  as  deep  and  sincere  as  it  was  sudden  and  un 
expected;  but  the  open  disgrace  which  evoked  it, 
proved,  unhappily,  to  be  the  proverbial  'final  straw 
that  breaks  the  camel's  back.' 

Now  through  drink,  Robert  Manning  had  also  been 
led  into  the  distraction  of  gambling;  the  races  and 
poker  becoming  his  pastime;  although  for  a  consid 
erable  time,  the  much  worried  mother  had  been  hap 
pily  without  knowledge  of  this  new  cause  for  solici 
tude.  His  attendance  upon  the  former  had  thus  far 
been  limited  to  the  weekly  half  holiday  from  business ; 
where  he  had  one  day  been  discovered  by  their  most 
intimate  friend,  the  very  Mr.  Elliott  to  whose  interest 
and  influence  the  young  man  was  indebted  for  his 
business  connection.  An  enlightening  letter  to  the 
mother  was  the  result;  'for,'  wrote  that  good  and  true 
friend,  'I  lack  the  courage  to  tell  you  in  person  such 
things  as  I  now  feel  to  be  necessary.  It  is  between 


418  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ourselves,  however,  for  let  me  assure  you  right  here, 
dear  Mrs.  Manning,  that  I  have  not  spoken  at  home 
even,  of  the  deplorable  change  which  has  taken  place 
in  Robert.  I  will  refer  first  to  his  indulgence  in  liquor. 

Many  times  during  the  last  few  months,  he  has  gone 
back  to  the  office  from  luncheon  at  the  club  which  he 
frequents,  so  intoxicated  as  to  be  unfit  for  business 
the  rest  of  the  day.  Out  of  consideration  for  me,  Mr. 
C.  has  screened  him  in  his  private  sanctum  at  such 
times,  where  he  has  slept  off  the  effects ;  so  that  by  the 
time  he  returned  home  at  evening,  you  have  probably 
never  suspected  the  condition  he  had  been  in  but  a 
few  hours  before.  I  never  saw  any  one  else  who 
sobered  up  so  quickly  and  carried  no  traces ;  a  few 
hours  of  sleep  and  he  is  apparently  his  normal  self 
again.  I  have  talked  to  Robert  repeatedly,  and  pleaded 
with  him  to  let  the  dangerous  stuff  alone,  and  each 
time,  deeply  penitent,  he  has  promised;  but  still  he 
continues. 

Now  Mr.  C.  values  his  services,  and  because  of  this 
at  first — latterly,  I  must  admit,  through  my  interven 
tion — has  retained  him  in  his  employ.  Gambling, 
however,  is  something  he  simply  will  not  tolerate  in 
an  employee,  and  much  as  I  shrink  from  telling  you 
this,  Robert,  I  find,  is  much  addicted  to  this  bad  habit 
also.  Rumors  to  the  effect  that  he  was,  and  was  also 
a  constant  and  reckless  bettor,  had  reached  Mr.  C.'s 
ears, — the  boy  seems  unfortunately  to  have  many 
more  enemies  than  friends — and  yesterday  he  was  told 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  419 

of  it  again,  and  that  Robert  would  be  at  the  track  this 
afternoon.  Hoping  to  disprove  the  rumor  by  so  doing, 
I  myself  went  over  to  see,  and  found  the  statement 
but  too  true;  Robert  was  not  only  there,  but  much 
under  the  influence  of  drink  beside,  and  making  him 
self  very  uncreditably  conspicuous  among  a  most  un 
worthy  looking  lot  of  associates ;  I  could  not  have  felt 
worse  to  see  my  own  boy  in  such  company. 

It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  write  you  thus,  dear  friend, 
but  I  feel  that  it  is  neither  right  nor  wise  nor  even  pos 
sible,  for  me  to  keep  these  things  from  your  knowledge 
any  longer,  for  /  have  no  lasting  influence  over  Robert ; 
you  are  the  only  one  who  has  and  can  save  him.  Not, 
of  course,  that  he  is  any  longer  a  child  and  subject 
to  your  control,  but  the  mere  fact  of  your  knowing 
how  he  is  going  on,  will  be  enough  to  bring  him  to 
himself,  I  believe;  for  he  has  been  overwhelmed  with 
remorse  for  his  conduct,  upon  your  account,  when 
ever  I  have  had  occasion  to  talk  with  him  about  it. 

I  know  this  great  change  in  him  has  all  resulted 
from  his  continued  brooding  over  that  disastrous  love 
affair,  which  was  an  exceptionally  hard  experience, 
I  admit.  Still,  considering  his  birth,  training,  and 
strong  nature,  I  must  confess  I  would  have  expected 
Robert  to  meet  it  more  like  a  man ;  and  as  he  no  doubt 
would  have  done,  had  he  been  older. 

In  closing,  dear  friend,  let  me  assure  you  of  my 
deep  sympathy  in  this  trying  situation,  and  of  my  wish 
to  be  of  further  service  to  you  if  I  can.  If  you  want 


420  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

advice  or  assistance  of  any  kind,  call  on  me  without 
hesitation;  and  I  hope  you  may  find  some  comfort  in 
the  assurance  of  my  perfect  confidence,  that  now  that 
you  know,  we  shall  have  no  cause  for  like  anxiety 
about  Robert  again/ 

Oh,  what  news  for  any  mother,  under  any  circum 
stances,  to  receive!  but  especially  for  this  mother  un 
der  these.  The  shadow  cast  by  that  indisputable 
damning — though  friendly — letter,  put  in  total  eclipse 
the  one  ray  of  sunshine  which  yet  illumined  her  dark 
ened  life;  for  through  all  her  worry  and  mortification, 
the  thought  by  which  she  had  been  upheld,  had  been 
that  her  galling  secret  the  world  knew  not  of;  but 
now,  hope  was  cut  off  even  in  that  direction.  It  nau 
seated  her  to  think  of  the  groundless  delusion  under 
which  she  had  been  laboring;  that  while  she  had  been 
striving  so  hard  to  present  a  smiling  face,  a  care-free 
demeanor  to  their  friends,  this  one  friend,  at  least, 
possibly  others,  had  been  seeing  the  reverse  side  of 
the  picture  and  had  been  pitying  her.  And  then  her 
heart  sank  still  lower,  as  she  suddenly  remembered 
how  that  it  was  Robert  himself  who  had  led  her  into 
this  miserable  delusion,  by  declaring  again  and  again, 
that  he  "never  so  much  as  looked  at  the  vile  stuff  dur 
ing  the  day." 

And  with  the  realization  that,  notwitstanding  her 
devotion,  forbearance,  confidence,  he  could  bring  him 
self  to  deliberately  lie  to  her,  that  formerly  so  high- 
minded  he  was  no  longer  truthful,  and  that  henceforth 


ROBERT'S  TRANSGRESSIONS  421 

she  must  take  his  most  positive  assertions  even  with 
an  element  of  distrust;  he,  the  child  whom  she  had 
borne,  reared  so  carefully,  loved  so  unselfishly  and 
worshipped  almost  idolatrously,  when  this  realization, 
coupled  with  the  knowledge  of  additional  shortcom 
ings,  association  with  degrading  companions,  and  the 
shame  of  discovery  and  publicity,  finally  took  hold, 
firm  hold  of  her  reluctant  consciousness,  stung  to  the 
quick,  the  crushed  spirit  of  the  mother  died  within  her, 
and  mind  weakened,  while  body  succumbed;  for — 

Hope  disappointed,  cankers;  chills; 
The  very  life-blood  sips. 

And  this  utterly  disappointed  one  could  stand  the  strain 
no  longer. 

Two  months  of  prostration  followed  this  collapse; 
months  filled  with  as  great  suffering  for  the  stricken 
one  as  they  long  were  for  Robert  with  deepest  anxiety 
and  concern  as  to  the  outcome.  But  when  the  mother 
could  again  think  and  talk  clearly,  she  said  and  said 
truly,  that  she  would  gladly  have  gone  through  it  all, 
and  more,  for  the  sake  of  the  restored  son,  so  assiduous 
in  his  attendance  upon  her,  once  more  tender  and 
affectionate  in  his  intercourse,  so  solicitous  for  her 
recovery  and  determined,  even  in  the  most  critical 
hour,  not  to  give  her  up,  so  bowed  down  with  grief 
for  all  he  had  brought  upon  her.  Who  had  won  his 
way  back  to  the  full  confidence  of  their  anxious  friend, 
and  the  renewed  esteem  of  his  employer. 


422  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

For  Robert  Manning,  devoured  with  shame  and  re 
morse,  had  taken  himself  so  masterfully  in  hand  when 
he  learned  of  his  mother's  fuller  knowledge  of  his  dis 
graceful  habits  and  saw  its  dire  effect  upon  her,  as  to 
show  himself  a  man  indeed ;  well  worthy  of  the  toler 
ance  which  had  spared  him  the  ignomy  of  dishonorable 
dismissal  from  a  good  and  lucrative  position. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

NON   COMPOS   MENTIS. 

"For    to   the    dead   mind    of    the   living  mother 

he  was  but  as  a  stranger." 

Excessive  joy  sometimes  kills ;  but  not  so  in  the  case 
of  Margaret  Manning,  for  her  joy,  though  most  ex 
cessive,  was  of  the  sort  which  invigorates  only.  In 
a  glorious  resurrection  morn,  buried  hope  had  come 
forth  from  its  sepulcher  in  her  heart  and  found  reali 
zation  ;  and — 

Hope  realized,  of  sparkling  wine, 
Holds  chalice  to  the  lips. 

And  this  wine,  which  she  now  drank  from  a  brim 
ming  chalice,  was  as  the  wine  of  life  to  her;  whose 
sparkle  soon  banished  the  dullness  of  eye,  and  cours 
ing  through  the  bloodless  veins,  brought  back  to  her 
cheek  a  shade  of  its  wonted  color;  herald  of  renewed 
vitality  and  returning  strength.  And  the  smile  which 
played  about  her  mouth  was  no  longer  studied  and  a 
hollow  mockery,  because  feigned,  but  spontaneous,  and 
filled  with  the  joy  of  satisfied  contentment.  For  the 
mother  had  again  come  into  her  own  at  last;  the  un 
selfish  consideration  and  grateful  devotion  of  the  son 


424  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

of  her  love,  the  idol  of  her  heart,  whose  single  aim  it 
now  was  to  cover  the  sad  and  blighting  memories  of 
a  past,  with  the  joyous  experiences  of  a  happy  present. 

And  not  of  a  happy  present  only,  but  of  a  delightful 
future  as  well;  for  bent  upon  making  the  fullest  pos 
sible  amends  for  his  failings,  Robert  had  not  only  un 
selfishly  suggested,  but  also  insisted  upon,  a  return  to 
the  home  city,  from  which  he  well  knew  the  heart 
of  his  parent  had  never  been  separated. 

"Give  up  the  flat  from  May  ist,  mother,"  he  ad 
vised.  "That  will  leave  us  more  than  six  weeks  to 
sell  out  in;  we  will  surely  find  a  buyer  long  before 
that." 

Now  it  would  have  been  strange,  indeed,  if  such  a 
suggestion  had  not  caused  the  heart  of  Margaret  Man 
ning  to  bound  with  joy;  yet  stranger  still,  if  she  had 
not  at  first  demurred  at  acceptance  of  the  generous 
proposal.  But  when  the  soft  sentimentalities  of 
mother-love  had  been  silenced  by  the  logic  of  cold 
reason,  the  wisdom  and  greater  safety  of  the  change 
appealing  to  her,  it  was  gratefully  accepted. 

The  plan  for  the  intended  move  being  carried  out 
as  proposed,  the  days  were  happy  days  for  both,  while 
they  waited — though  not  impatiently — for  the  pur 
chaser  who  did  not  at  once  appear;  for  time  was  yet 
needed  to  restore  to  the  convalescent  the  strength 
needed  to  fortify  against  the  fatigue  of  travel.  Then 
there  were  some  few  little  parting  civilities  to  be  ac 
cepted  and  returned,  and  these  social  duties  were  now 


NON  COMPOS  MENTIS  425 

to  spell  real  pleasure  for  Margaret  Manning,  because 
of  her  son's  interest  and  participation  in  them. 

"We  shall  be  but  little  apart  hereafter,"  became  the 
frequent  whisper  of  her  happy  heart;  and  living  in 
that  blessed  assurance,  the  grateful  mother  gave  her 
self  up  to  rest  joyfully  in  it  and  recuperate  for  the 
prospective  home-going,  which  her  May-day  anni 
versary  was  to  begin. 

One  intervening,  early  April  evening,  when  the  tem 
pering  ocean  breezes  were  refreshingly  fanning  the 
perspiring  faces  of  the  city's  inhabitants,  after  one  of 
its  rare,  and  therefore  prostrating  days  of  extremely 
high  temperature  for  that  climatically  most  favored 
locality,  Robert,  tired  and  exhausted  from  a  very  busy 
day  in  a  super-heated  office,  had  started  out  for  an 
airing  at  the  beach;  to  whose  miles  of  sandy  stretch 
the  populace  was  wont  to  flock  in  great  numbers,  under 
all  such  provocation. 

"Look  for  me  about  eleven,  mother,"  he  had  said, 
as  he  bade  his  parent  an  affectionate  good-night. 
"Don't  sit  up  for  me  though,  for  you  need  all  the 
sleep  you  can  get  these  days." 

Accordingly,  with  a  heart  now  blessedly  free  from 
all  misgivings,  the  mother  had  retired  at  a  seasonable 
hour  to  a  sweet  and  sound  first  sleep ;  from  which  the 
pealing  bell  of  a  near-by  church  at  length  awakened 
her  to  the  knowledge  that  midnight  had  come  again, 
but  not  Robert;  for  the  hall  light  still  burned  for  the 
absent  son. 


426  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Knowing  the  fascination  of  the  beach  on  such 
nights,  however,  and  how  late  the  crowds  were  given 
to  lingering  in  the  open,  loath  to  leave  the  salty  fra 
grance  and  reviving  coolness  of  the  ocean,  she  re 
minded  herself  of  the  sudden,  simultaneous  rush  for 
home  which  always  took  place  about  this  hour,  and 
the  consequent  delay  in  getting  even  a  foothold  aboard 
the  densely  packed  street  cars ;  and  drowsily  thinking, 
"it  will  be  one,  probably,  before  he  gets  here/  had 
dropped  off  into  another  untroubled  slumber. 

But  when  the  bell's  solitary  stroke  again  brought 
the  woman  to  herself,  the  light  outside  her  room  yet 
burned.  Still,  the  hour  was  not  an  unseasonable  one 
for  such  an  occasion,  and  sleeping  more  lightly  now, 
most  of  another  hour  had  been  passed  in  alternate 
dozings  and  wakings. 

Two  o'clock  however,  found  the  now  very  uneasy 
mother,  too  nervous  to  remain  longer  in  bed,  lightly 
robed  and  seated  in  the  circular,  corner  window  of 
an  adjoining  room,  which  commanded  a  view  of  two 
streets.  O,  how  many  times  had  she  sat  in  that  same 
window  before,  eagerly  watching  now  in  this  direction, 
now  that,  through  the  long,  silent  hours  of  the  night, 
for  her  boy's  return.  And  what  home-comings  those 
had  been!  Yet  even  as  she  shuddered  at  the  sicken 
ing  remembrance  of  them,  her  heart  went  out  in  deep 
est  thankfulness  that  they  were  now  but  the  fading 
memories  of  an  unhallowed  past,  impossible  of  repe 
tition,  for  her  dear  one  had  come  to  himself. 


NON  COMPOS  MENTIS  427 

"And  now,  O,  Lord,"  she  fervently  breathed, — once 
more  voicing  the  prayer  often  upon  her  lips  and  con 
stantly  within  her  heart — "continue  Thy  work  of 
grace,  I  beseech  Thee,  until  he  shall  have  said,  'I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  Father/  "  Thus  the  anxious  night 
wore  slowly  on. 

Another  hour  of  vain  watching  passed;  and  now, 
with  alarm  added  to  uneasiness,  the  distracted  mother 
began  an  almost  constant  using  of  her  'phone;  calling 
up  in  close  succession,  first  one,  then  another  of  the 
offices  of  the  various  Dailies.  "Had  any  accident  been 
reported  since  evening — or  drowning  at  the  beach — 
or  hold-up — or  sudden  death  or  prostration  from  the 
excessive  heat  of  the  day  ?"  For  that  Robert  had  been 
the  victim  of  some  such  accident  or  happening,  she 
was  so  very  sure,  that  the  negative  replies  received 
in  each  case,  seemed  almost  to  disappoint  rather  than 
relieve. 

And  now  came  Winnie,  the  maid  of  all  work — of 
late  the  only  attendant  upon  her  mistress — with  her 
coaxing — 'take  this  bit  iv  a  biscuit  and  sup  o'  wine, 
me  darlint.'  But  Margaret  Manning  could  have  flown 
as  easily  as  to  have  swallowed  a  morsel  or  drop  of 
anything  by  this  time,  for  her  nervousness  had  grown 
intolerable;  driving  her  from  'phone  to  window,  from 
window  to  'phone.  But  the  church  bell  had  pealed 
forth  the  hour  of  four,  and  still  her  aching  eyes  had 
not  been  eased  nor  her  burdened  heart  gladdened,  wtih 
the  sight  of  a  loved  figure  upon  the  street,  and  her 


428  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

repeated  inquiries  for  the  news  she  sought  had  begun 
to  annoy,  and  elicit  but  a  short  'No*  in  response. 

The  periodical  'cuckoo,  cuckoo,'  from  the  Swiss 
clock  in  the  diningroom,  and  the  gentle  ticking  of  the 
dainty  French  one  upon  the  mantel  of  the  little  parlor 
in  which  they  sat, — for  devoted  Winnie  had  insisted 
upon  remaining  to  share  her  mistress'  vigil — alike,  now 
wrought  so  raspingly  upon  the  strained  sensibilities  of 
Margaret  Manning,  that  she  was  grateful  indeed,  when 
instinctively,  the  woman  had  quietly  slipped  from  the 
room  with  the  one,  and  closed  the  doors  between  her 
and  the  other.  And  although  it  was  simply  unendur 
able,  she  felt  truly  sorry  in  her  heart  to  request  the 
loving  soul  to  desist  from  the  bits  of  intended  cheer 
ing  conversation,  that  she  would  now  and  then  attempt. 

Agitation  reached  a  climax  however,  when  the  quiet 
of  the  night  was  soon  after  broken  by  a  man's  thick, 
husky  voice  singing — 

'Here's  good  luck  to  whiskey, 

For  it  makes  you  feel  so  frisky ; 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down,  drink  it  down !' 

for  then  it  was  that  a  horrible  fear  entered  her  mind. 
"Can  it  be  ?  Again  ?  After  all  ?"  she  questioned  fran 
tically  with  herself;  as  she  tottered,  shivering  with 
nervous  dread,  to  the  window,  and  strained  her  eyes 
for  a  moment  to  peer  through  the  dimness  of  the  semi- 
lighted  street.  But  sank  back  upon  her  chair  with  a 


NON  COMPOS  MENTIS  429 

smothered — "No,  thank  God!"  as  the  drunken  singer, 
a  man  much  older  than  Robert,  staggered  across  the 
street  and  up  the  steps  of  an  opposite  house,  from  an 
upper  window  of  which  a  guiding  light  faintly 
streamed. 

"Robert  was  never  noisy  like  that,"  she  reminded 
herself,  with  a  feeling  of  satisfaction;  and  then  her 
heart  stood  still  for  a  second,  gripped  again  by  that 
horrible  fear;  for  she  had  just  before  interviewed  the 
men  of  news  again,  and  received  the  same  unsatis 
factory  answer. 

"But  no!  it  is  not  so!"  she  burst  out  at  length,  as 
if  to  drive  away  the  awful  thought; — unheeding  the 
presence  of  her  companion.  "Robert  is  dead !  dead  I 
say,  or  hurt  and  unable  to  get  home !  He  never  stayed 
away  from  me  a  whole  night  before.  Oh,  my  boy ! 
my  boy!  Where  shall  I  look  for  you?  How  shall  I 
come  to  you?" 

And  pale  and  haggard,  the  unhappy  woman  now 
began  a  restless  pacing  back  and  forth;  back  and 
forth ;  longing  for  the  break  of  day,  that  she  might  do 
something;  glad  indeed  when  the  noisy  rattle  of  the 
milk  and  bread  wagons  over  the  hard  pavements  of 
the  deserted  streets,  began  to  tell  of  its  oncoming. 
And  when,  later,  rising  from  behind  the  beautiful, 
green  Berkeley  hills  across  the  vast  bay  which  she 
overlooked,  a  pale  yellowness  began  slowly  diffusing 
itself  along  the  Eastern  sky,  she  exclaimed  trium 
phantly,  "They  can't  keep  it  from  me  much  longer 


430  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Winnie;  I  shall  soon  have  my  paper  now!"  For  in 
her  ravening  eagerness  for  news,  the  constantly  dis 
appointed  inquirer — whose  recently  disturbed  mind 
had  scarcely  yet  regained  its  perfect  equilibrium — had 
finally  come  to  believe  that  this  was  being  purposely 
withheld  from  her. 

When  next  the  church  bell  pealed,  it  proclaimed  the 
interminable  dark  hours  of  the  night  at  an  end ;  and 
just  as  the  little  bird  in  the  dining-room  was  sallying 
gaily  forth  again,  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
first  half  hour  of  a  new  daylight  had  passed,  the  sharp 
crack  of  the  tightly  twisted  morning  paper  against 
the  front  door,  was  heard ;  and  Winnie,  leaving  the 
post  of  vantage  from  which  she  had  been  so  steadily 
watching,  hurried  below  to  bring  to  her  mistress  the 
long  wished-for  sheet. 

Startled  by  the  sudden  though  familiar  thud,  Mar 
garet  Manning  came  to  an  abrupt  pause  in  her  rest 
less  pacing,  as  the  woman  left  the  room;  and  with 
heart  in  mouth,  and  the  terrific  pressure  of  blood  upon 
her  ear-drums  from  its  rapid  beating  all  but  deafen 
ing  her,  put  forth  a  mighty  effort  to  calm  and  pre 
pare  herself  for  what  might  await.  Being  by  now  so 
possessed  by  that  terrible  fear,  that  in  spite  of  all 
efforts  at  self-control,  the  nerveless  limbs  shook  so 
under  her  as  to  compel  a  dropping  down  into  the  con 
versazione  by  which  she  stood,  in  order  to  keep  from 
falling;  and  a-tremble  from  head  to  foot,  it  was  with 
an  almost  palsied  hand  that  she  took  the  untwisted 


NON  COMPOS  MENTIS  431 

sheet  from  a  maid,  scarcely  less  agitated  than  herself. 
For  Winnie  McCaffrey  would  have  given  her  life  for 
this  mother  and  son ;  both  of  whom  she  had  proudly 
dandled  upon  her  knees  in  infancy,  from  whom  she 
had  never  been  separated,  and  around  whom  the  abid 
ing  love  of  her  warm,  Irish  heart,  had  ever  since 
twined.  So  she  stood  by  now,  breathlessly  waiting 
for  her  share  in  the  expected  bad  news,  for  which  her 
over-wrought  mistress  was  excitedly  running  her  eye 
up  and  down  the  columns  of  the  printed  page. 

All  at  once,  the  paper  slid  to  the  floor,  as  the  hands 
which  had  been  holding  it,  suddenly  relaxing,  dropped 
limply  into  the  lap ;  and  dazed  and  stunned,  the  mother, 
with  the  despairing  look  of  some  closely  pursued 
wild  creature  in  her  eyes,  looked  appealingly  up,  star 
ing  speechless  into  the  anxious  face  of  her  companion. 
For  this  was  the  happening  that  she  had  read,  sensa 
tionally  detailed  at  length,  with  bold  headlines,  in  the 
outer  column  of  the  Journal's  first  page : 

"POKER  GAME  IN  SWELL  DEN  ON 
P STREET  RAIDED ! 

TWENTY  PROMINENT  YOUNG   MEN,   REGULAR 

FREQUENTERS     OF     THE     PLACE, 

ARRESTED  \" 

And  then,  heading  the  list  of  those  who  had  been 
locked  up  as  not  having  sufficient  money  left  with 
which  to  pay  the  required  fine,  with  their  occupations 


432  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

and  addresses,  was  the  name  of  'Robert  Armstrong 
Manning.' 

"Oh,  what  is  it,  me  darlint;  what  is  it?"  screamed 
the  frightened  maid;  dropping  to  her  knees  beside 
her  mistress  and  chafing  the  cold,  clammy  hands. 
"What  is  it  has  happened  to  Masther  Robert?  Tell 
me,  me  darlint,  tell  me,  an'  don't  luk  at  me  the  loiks 
o'  that!  O,  howly  Mother  o'  God,  defind  us!"  she 
cried ;  devoutly  crossing  herself. 

At  the  sound  of  the  other's  voice,  the  deadened 
faculties  of  the  stricken  mother  seemed  to  waken  to 
a  sense  of  needed  action,  and  bring  back  the  power 
of  thought  and  speech;  and  jumping  to  her  feet  she 
shrieked,  "My  clothes,  Winnie,  my  clothes!  bring  me 
my  clothes !  and  money,  Winnie !  money  and  a  knife ! 
They  haven't  told  the  truth,  Winnie !  Robert  is  dead — 
he  was  drowned  at  the  beach — and  they  won't  bury 
him!  They  have  put  him  in  jail,  Winnie!  In  jail! 
Don't  you  hear  me !"  she  demanded,  as  though  pro 
voked  at  receiving  no  reply;  "A  Manning  is  in  jail! 
Bring  my  clothes,  Winnie!"  she  again  commanded, 
impatiently;  "And  money!  And  a  knife!  I  must  go 
kill  the  man  who  dared  send  Robert  Armstrong's 
grandson  to  jail!" 

And  still  calling  wildly  for  her  clothes,  and  tearing 
frantically  at  the  fastenings  of  her  robe-de-chambre, 
the  yet  physically  weak,  and  now  demented  woman, 
sank  down,  exhausted  by  her  furious  outburst.  For 
demented  she  was  in  very  truth.  The  blow  to  family 


NON  COMPOS  MENTIS  433 

name  and  honor  and  pride,  had  proven  'the  final  straw/ 
Soothing  her  mistress  with  the  promise  of  the  things 
for  which  she  clamored,  the  quick-witted  maid  slipped 
quickly  to  the  'phone  in  the  hall,  and  called  for  a  num 
ber.  "Me  misthress  is  dyin'  me  masther's  dead  an'  they 
won't  bury  'im  an'  o  fer  the  luv  uv  Hivin  coom  quick !" 
she  shouted  into  the  receiver.  And  to  such  purpose, 
that  by  the  time  the  dressing  of  her  mistress — pro 
longed  by  every  subterfuge  her  inventive  brain  could 
devise — had  been  accomplished,  the  friend  who  scarce 
three  months  earlier  had  offered  just  such  assistance 
as  was  now  needed,  was  there  to  render  it. 

A  charnel  house  were  a  preferable  home  to  the  one 
to  which  Robert  Manning  returned  a  few  hours  later; 
for  to  the  dead  mind  of  the  living  mother,  he  was  now 
but  as  a  stranger;  to  whom,  in  common  with  all  who 
came  near,  she  told  a  never-ending,  pathetic  tale  about 
"a  baby  who  deceived  me,  and  was  drowned  for  it 
one  warm  night  in  Lake  Sylvanus,  and  whom  they 
won't  bury." 

The  other  inevitable  penalties  to  be  paid  for  his 
fatal  indulgence,  were  severe  indeed.  The  bitter  de 
nunciation  of  heart-broken — though  loving — Winnie, 
the  reproaches  and  forfeited  confidence  of  interested 
friends ;  the  scarcely  concealed  sneers  of  envious  busi 
ness  associates,  glad  of  his  downfall;  the  meeting  and 
squaring  of  himself  with  his  employer,  at  least  to  a 
sufficient  degree  to  escape  the  disgrace  of  instant  dis 
missal  ;  the  ineffaceable  recollection  of  having  been  in 


434  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  hands  of  the  Law,  with  the  withering  shame  of  it, 
these  were  humiliating  and  bitter  beyond  conception. 
But  to  look  into  the  vacant  eyes  and  expressionless 
face,  and  listen  to  the  unintentionally  accusing  chatter 
of  the  wrecked  mother,  whom  he  upbraided  himself 
'It  had  been  far  less  cruel  to  have  slain/  this  was  the 
punishment  that  well  nigh  crazed  Robert  Manning, 
and  in  a  day,  added  ten  years  to  his  apparent  age.  She 
listened  without  comprehension  or  interest,  to  his 
really  true  story  of  having  been  drawn  unwittingly 
into  the  game  which  he  had  not  once  before  indulged 
in  since  the  race-track  episode,  and  never  would 
again;  but  his  visible  remorse  and  piteous  appeals  for 
forgiveness,  made  not  the  least  impression;  for  she 
to  whom  they  were  made,  was  no  longer  compos 
mentis. 

But,  'how  oft  the  penitential  tear,  bedews  the 
mourner's  cheek/  Could  the  mother  only  have  known 
that  at  last,  like  the  Prodigal's  of  old,  the  penitent 
'Father,  I  have  sinned!'  of  her  humbled,  wandering 
boy  had  also  been  spoken,  the  joy  in  her  heart  would 
have  soon  have  brought  back  the  light  of  reason  to 
her  eye,  we  think. 

The  sorry  situation  was  not  altogether  without  en 
couragement  however,  for  the  case  was  diagnosed  as 
but  a  harmless  dementia,  such  as  frequently  followed 
nervous  shock,  and  which,  if  the  patient  were  kept 
unfretted  and  so,  tranquil  in  mind,  well  fortified  with 
sleep  and  nourishing  food,  would  soon  pass ;  no  worse 
developments  were  anticipated. 


NON  COMPOS  MENTIS  435 

But  an  anxious  week  went  by  without  improvement, 
with  no  noticeable  change,  in  fact.  Then,  suddenly, 
the  talkativeness  ceased  and  gave  place  to  absolute 
silence  for  a  couple  of  days;  during  which,  with  the 
knitted  brow  of  deep,  hard  thought,  the  afflicted 
woman  seemed  making  a  strenuous,  though  at  first 
vain  attempt  to  remember  something.  For  giving  up 
in  apparent  despair  now  and  then,  she  would  shake 
her  head  in  a  hopelessly  disappointed  way,  and  rising 
dejectedly,  would  again  tread  the  floor  aimlessly  for 
hours;  after  which,  another  evident  struggle  with 
memory  would  begin. 

At  last,  in  the  midst  of  one  of  these  wearying 
mental  periods,  the  intensely  absorbed  look  upon  her 
face  was  seen  all  at  once  to  change  to'  one  of  enlight 
enment,  but  also,  distress;  and  in  a  horrified  whisper 
the  one  word  'jail  P  fell  just  once  from  the  parted  lips. 

It  was  a  gruesome  enough  word  to  hear  her  speak, 
and  yet  it  caused  rejoicing,  for  it  proved  memory  to 
be  returning;  the  mind  was  awakening,  so  there 
seemed  good  reason  to  hope  for  the  speedy  recovery 
so  confidently  prophesied. 

But  instead  of  the  mind  awakening  to  clearness  as 
was  expected,  the  mania  changed  to  a  worse;  a  homi 
cidal  one ;  and  during  the  night,  the  sharp  report  of  a 
pistol  was  heard  in  Robert's  room,  and  a  bullet  went 
whizzing  across  the  bed  but  a  few  inches  above  the 
young  man's  head.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  untiring 
vigilance  of  the  watchful  servant,  he  would  have  been 


436  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

murdered  by  the  irresponsible  mother  who  had  cun 
ningly  eluded  the  wornout  nurse,  snatching  a  bit  of 
needed  rest,  at  her  side.  For  Winnie  had  stolen  from 
her  room  and  crept  behind  her  passing  mistress  as 
stealthily  as  she,  to  the  bedside  of  the  dozing  son,  and 
knocked  up  the  cocked  weapon  just  quick  enough  to 
prevent  a  most  pitiable  tragedy. 

An  immediate  removal  of  his  patient  from  home, 
was  now  advised  by  the  astounded  physician;  but  the 
unwilling  son  would  not  consider  the  proposition,  even, 
until  a  desperate  attempt  upon  her  own  life  with  a  long 
forgotten  razor,  the  following  day,  had  also  been 
foiled.  Then,  raving  and  unmanageable,  the  woman's 
condition  became  so  dangerous,  that  for  her  personal 
safety,  Robert  had  been  forced  to  consent;  and  with 
all  possible  dispatch,  the  maniac  mother  was  com 
mitted  to  one  of  the  State  hospitals  for  the  care  of 
like,  poor  unfortunates. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE. 

"During  those  more  than  fifty  awful  seconds, 
*  *  *  the  astounded  man  *  *  *  lay  limp, 
motionless,  breathless;  hushed,  as  it  were,  by 
the  sense  of  an  awesome  Presence,  whose  com 
manding:  'Be  still!  and  know  that  I  am  God'! 
he  divined  rather  than  heard." 

"  'The  city  is  burning  and  there  is  no  water! 
we  are  doomed!  We  are  doomed!*  they  cried, 
with  ashen  faces." 

Self-condemnation  is  a  goad, 

A  scourge  of  many  cords, 
Which  guilty  hearts  relentless  flays, 

Nor  peace  nor  joy  affords. 
What  though  the  injured  one  forgive, 

Most  fully  and  most  free? 
So  long  as  mine  own  heart  accuse, 

Life's  but  a  Hell  for  me. 

Lashed  by  the  scourge  of  an  accusing  conscience, 
wrung  with  contrition  for  the  course  of  wrong  doing 
which  had  begat  such  grievous  results,  haunted  by  a 
never-fading  vision  of  the  wild-eyed  mother,  whom — 
with  devoted  Winnie  as  temporary  attendant — he  had 
that  day  conveyed  to  her  place  of  incarceration,  Robert 
Manning,  as  haggard  and  emaciated  from  worry  as 
from  loss  of  sleep  and  food,  was  but  an  unrecogniza- 


438  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

ble  wreck  of  himself  when  he  reached  the  city  of  San 
Francisco  again,  upon  his  return  from  that  repugnant, 
that  gloomy  trip. 

It  was  late  evening,  when  at  the  city's  great  thor 
oughfare — world-renowned  Market  Street — he  stepped 
from  the  closed  carriage  in  which  the  journey  had 
been  made;  for  he  had  not  yet  sufficient  command  of 
himself  to  venture  back  to  the  now  desolated  flat  upon 
the  hill,  from  whence  all  that  had  made  of  it  the 
charming  and  lovable  home  that  it  was,  had  that  day 
been  forcibly  removed. 

Not  that  he  willed  to  drown  his  sorrow  in  drink 
and  the  game  as  hitherto ;  that  inclination  was  happily 
now  gone  from  the  chastened  man,  forever.  But  to 
spend  this  -first  night  there,  alone  with  his  unendurable 
thoughts  and  memories,  spend  it  upon  the  scene  of 
the  hideous  occurrences  which  had  transpired  within 
that  home  but  just  now,  would  drive  him  too,  mad, 
he  felt.  "By  tomorrow  it  will  be  different" ;  he  com 
muned  with  himself;  "but  tonight,  I  must  have  light 
and  sound  and  people." 

So,  although  his  brain  seemed  a  seven  times  heated 
furnace,  his  head  swam,  his  knees  bent  under  him  as 
he  set  foot  upon  the  pavement,  and  he  shook  as  with 
an  ague,  the  wretched  man  began  a  feverish  tramping 
back  and  forth  along  the  miles  of  sidewalk  flanking 
the  princely  street,  from  the  imposing  Ferry  Building 
at  one  end,  to  Twin  Peaks  at  the  other. 

Yet  'light  and  sound  and  people'  combined,  could 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  439 

not  release  his  fettered  thoughts  from  the  tyrannous 
thralldom  of  a  few  long  forgotten,  but  self-accusing 
verses,  which  he  remembered  to  have  read  some 
time,  somewhere,  and  which  it  seemed  to  him  had 
burned  themselves  thus  deep  into  his  consciousness 
on  purpose  to  come  forth  and  torture  him  at  this  time. 
For  as  if  written  in  letters  of  flame,  there  danced  ever 
before  his  eyes  as  he  walked: 

'I  made  the  cross  myself,  whose  weight, 

Was  later  laid  on  me. 
This  thought  is  anguish,  as  I  toil 

Up  life's  steep  Calvary/ 

To  think  mine  own  hands  drove  the  nails ! 

I  sang  a  merry  song, 
And  chose  the  heaviest  wood  I  had, 

To  make  it  firm  and  strong/ 

'Had  I  but  known,  had  I  but  dreamed, 

Its  weight  was  meant  for  me, 
I  would  have  made  a  lighter  cross, 

To  bear  up  Calvary/ 

O,  how  perfectly  did  the  incriminating  words  fit  his 
case.  Had  he  come  across  them  but  now,  he  could 
have  believed  a  knowledge  of  his  own  miserable  con 
duct  to  have  inspired  them.  And  as  perfectly  as  they 
fitted  his  case,  just  so  truly  did  they  speak  the  Ian- 


440  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

guage  of  his  heart ;  for  surely,  could  he  have  foreseen 
the  bitterness,  the  possibility  of  an  hour  like  this,  he 
would  have  made  no  such  burden  for  himself  to  bear. 
Would  it  ever  be  lifted  from  his  shoulders?  he  won 
dered.  He  doubted  it;  for  although  the  doctors  held 
out  still  stronger  hopes  of  his  mother's  recovery  under 
experienced  care,  and  amid  such  favorable  surround 
ings,  they  had  already  been  disappointed  in  their  ex 
pectations,  and  he  had  but  little  faith  in  any  of  their 
opinions  now.  But  even  should  they  be  right,  he  could 
never  forget;  and  memory  would  make  of  life  a  Hell 
of  Hells  for  him,  hereafter.  "No,  I  shall  have  to  toil 
on  up  the  thorny  steep  with  my  self-imposed  burden, 
to  a  Golgotha !"  he  mused,  gloomily. 

Once  the  brooding  man  wandered  to  the  end  of  an 
adjacent  wharf  and  looked  longingly  into  the  tempt 
ing  waters ;  but  a  suspicious  watchman  soon  came  and 
ordered  him  off.  And  more  times  than  one,  he  found 
it  all  but  impossible  to  refrain  from  throwing  himself 
before  a  moving  street  car;  death  would  have  been  so 
welcome.  But  cowardly  self-destruction,  he  realized 
in  time,  would  be  but  his  crowning  act  of  selfishness 
and  cruelty;  for  the  only  reparation  he  could  now 
make  his  wronged  mother  was  to  live  and  care  for 
her  to  the  end,  be  it  longer  or  shorter ;  let  the  burden 
of  living  become  ever  so  intolerable. 

Thus,  tortured  in  mind,  undistracted,  unsoothed  by 
the  noise  and  glitter  all  about  him,  and  growing  hourly 
weaker  in  body — he  had  not  tasted  food  for  more  than 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  441 

two  days — Robert  Manning  continued  his  wearing 
march  up  and  down  the  long,  lively  street;  while  the 
usual  throng  of  evening  promenaders,  grown  satisfied 
or  tired,  returned  to  their  homes,  and  the  crowds  of 
well-dressed  loungers  and  would-be  mashers,  also  dis 
appeared  from  their  habitual  camping  grounds  outside 
the  hundreds  of  elegantly  appointed  saloons  and  cigar 
stalls.  And  when  the  streaming  thousands  from  the 
theatres  and  concert  or  lecture  halls, — proud  pater 
familias  with  their  richly  dressed  wives  and  daugh 
ters,  debonair  gallants  of  his  own  age  escorting  hand 
some,  smiling  young  women,  groups  of  frivilous  boys 
and  girls  conventionally  chaperoned,  and  unattended 
matrons  or  spinsters  by  twos  and  threes — had  hurried 
from  the  glittering  grills,  cafes  and  refreshment  par 
lors  to  their  waiting  autos  or  to  catch  the  late  cars,  the 
popular  street  presented  a  deserted  appearance  indeed ; 
and  his  continued  presence  upon  it  became  so  conspicu 
ous,  that  a  good  natured  policeman  upon  the  beat — 
whom  he  had  already  passed  many  times — advised  him 
to  follow  the  example  of  the  rest. 

"Tryin'  to  walk  yer  feet  off,  man?"  he  ventured, 
pleasantly.  "Better  go  home  and  rest  a  bit."  But 
Robert — not  without  much  of  effort  now,  however — 
had  continued  on  past,  without  so  much  as  raising  his 
head  or  replying. 

"Poor  divil!"  muttered  the  man  to  himself,  pity 
ingly;  "Got  no  home  ter  go  to,  mebbe.  He's  forlorn 
lookin'  enough  to  'ave  lost  the  last  friend  he  had  in 


442  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  wurruld.  Wife's  left  'im,  I  bet;  some  more  of 
that  divilish  affinity  bisness.  Bigger  fool  he  ter  worry 
about  'er  ef  that's  the  case;  it's  a  good  reddance  fer 
'im.  An'  he  oughten  ter  hev  any  trouble  pickin'  up 
another  bit  o'  calico,  with  his  years  an'  figger !  Looks 
as  ef  'e  had  the  chink,  too" 

Yet  it  was  long  after  this,  in  fact,  not  until  the  big 
hands  of  the  Ferry  Tower  Clock  were  pointing  to 
three-thirty,  that  the  'forlorn  lookin'  pedestrian, — 
whom  he  had  come  to  speak  of  jocosely  to  himself  as 
'the  wandering  Jew' — from  sheer  inability  to  proceed 
further,  suddenly  came  to  an  unexpected  stop  and  sank 
down  in  a  heap  besides  a  lamppost,  less  than  a  block 
away.  And  perhaps,  because  he  did  look  'as  ef  he  Iwd 
the  chink'  the  big,  blue-coated  officer  had  hastened  to 
his  aid ;  and  to  his  feeble — 'a  bed,'  the  exhausted  man 
had  been  kindly  assisted  to  the  nearest  desirable  place 
of  rest ; — one  of  the  larger  and  better  class  lodging 
houses  on  a  'South  of  Market'  thoroughfare — where, 
fully  attired  because  he  was  so  freezing  cold,  albeit 
the  night  was  an  unusually  warm  one,  he  had  crawled 
in  under  the  ample  bed  coverings,  and  was  soon  bless 
edly  lost  to  consciousness,  sleeping  the  profound 
sleep  of  utter  exhaustion,  in  a  small,  inside,  fifth  story 
room;  the  only  available  spot  at  that  late  entry  into 
an  always  crowded  house. 

Less  than  two  hours  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus,  how 
ever,  and  from  this  much  needed  sleep,  the  weary 
man  was  suddenly  and  rudely  awakened  to  a  sensa- 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  443 

tion  which,  for  an  instant,  startled  him  into  the  horri 
fying  belief  that  he  had  been  drinking  again;  for  the 
bed  under  him  seemed  to  be  gyrating  in  all  directions 
at  once,  as  though  held  in  the  powerful  clutches  of 
some  angry  giant,  and,  moreover,  shaken  by  him  to 
the  full  limit  of  his  enraged  strength,  as  viciously  as 
might  an  excited  terrier  a  captured  rat;  it  was  all  he 
could  do  to  hold  himself  in. 

The  furniture  of  the  room  was  racing  about  like 
mad.  The  massive,  old  fashioned,  walnut  bureau  with 
its  heavy  marble  top,  had  slid  across  the  room  and 
wedged  itself  tightly  in  between  the  door  and  bed 
stead.  The  several  toilet  articles  upon  the  washstand 
— there  was  no  running  water  or  gas  in  this  seldom 
used  cubby  hole — went  clattering  to  the  floor  and  were 
smashed  to  atoms.  The  tall  chiffonier  crashed  over 
on  to  its  face,  shivering  the  beveled  mirror  into  a  thou 
sand  fragments.  The  hanging  lamp  was  swinging  so 
violently,  that  its  heavy  brass  frame  struck  with  a  bang 
against  the  opposite  walls,  twelve  feet  apart,  at  each 
swing;  hurling  the  filled,  but  fortunately  unlighted 
lamp  to  the  floor.  A  chimney  toppling  over  on  to  the 
roof,  sent  a  shower  of  mortar  and  bricks  and  broken 
glass  through  the  skylight  by  which  the  room  was 
lighted,  on  to  his  bed;  his  face  and  head — as  by  a 
miracle — escaping  unstruck,  though  his  eyes  were  filled 
with  the  blinding  dust. 

For  it  is  of  the  year  of  our  Lord,  one  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  six,  of  which  we  are  now  writing,  and 


444  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

of  its  fateful  morning  of  April  the  eighteenth.  That 
morning  when  the  mighty  forces  holding  carnival  be 
neath  the  Earth's  crust,  had  reached  forth,  gripped  a 
gay  city  in  their  titantic  embrace,  and  compelled  it, 
though  sleeping,  to  trip  with  them  a  reeling,  crazy, 
bacchanalian  measure. 

During  those  more, than  fifty  awful  seconds,  into 
which  the  memories  and  varying  emotions  of  a  past, 
present  and  future,  Time  and  Eternity,  all  seemed 
compressed,  the  astounded  man, — having  missed  the 
deep,  premonitory  rumble  heard  by  some  less  shut  in 
than  himself  and  whose  first  experience  of  earthquake 
shock  this  was,  expecting  with  each  lurch  of  the  sway 
ing  room  to  meet  death  'neath  falling  walls  and  ceil 
ing,  and  paralyzed  with  horror  at  thought  of  his  utter 
helplessness  and  inability  to  escape — lay  limp,  motion 
less,  breathless.  Hushed,  as  it  were,  by  the  sense  of 
an  awesome  Presence;  whose  commanding — 'Be  still; 
and  know  that  I  am  God !'  he  divined,  rather  than 
heard. 

As  abruptly  and  suddenly  as  it  had  come  did  the 
dreadful  trembler  pass;  and  when  motion  seemed  to 
have  ceased,  Robert  Manning  began  a  hasty  throwing 
of  the  confining  bricks  from  off  his  bed,  and  with 
bruised  flesh  but  unbroken  bones,  got  quickly  upon  his 
feet;  thankful  beyond  expression  to  find  a  reasonably 
steady  foundation  beneath  them. 

But  the  very  moment  of  its  birth  saw  his  relieved 
feeling  put  to  rout  by  a  new  horror ;  the  building  was 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  445 

surely  settling,  and  he  must  get  out  of  it  and  on  to 
the  street. 

Springing  to  the  door,  the  terrified  man  strove  to 
push  from  before  it  the  displaced  bureau,  which  barred 
his  exit  from  the  room;  but  the  attempt  of  a  puny 
child  to  push  Gibraltar  from  its  base,  might  have  been 
almost  as  prolific  of  results  as  his  impaired  strength 
upon  the  unmovable  wedge. 

"Oh,  what  should  he  do!  Must  he  indeed  give  up 
his  life  in  a  trap,  like  this?"  was  his  agonized  thought. 
Not  that  he  now  valued  it  or  would  shun  death.  For 
himself,  he  could  even  have  welcomed  release ;  but  for 
the  sake  of  another,  he  must  if  possible  save  this  life 
now  in  such  imminent  peril.  "But  how  shall  escape 
be  had  from  this  windowless  room?"  he  cried.  While 
down — down — down  went  the  sinking  building,  with 
at  least  this  one  of  its  many  hundred  occupants,  shriek 
ing  wildly  but  vainly  for  help. 

Still  casting  frantically  about  for  some  other  means 
of  exit,  however,  Robert's  eye  went  up  to  the  shat 
tered  skylight;  and  jumping  upon  the  bed,  he  reached 
for  the  unbroken  sash.  But  elevated  still  a  couple  of 
feet  above  the  high  ceiling,  tall  though  he  was  he 
could  not  make  it.  What  was  to  be  done?  Seconds 
were  eternities  to  him  now,  for  surely  the  ground  must 
soon  close  over  the  roof  of  the  rapidly  lowering  house. 

Snatching  the  thin  and  well-worn  counterpane  from 
the  bed,  the  desperate  man  tore  this  into  three  broad 
strips  which  he  knotted  quickly  together.  Fastening 


446  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

the  one  end  securely  about  his  waist,  he  then  sprang 
again  upon  the  bed,  threw  the  other,  rolled  into  a  ball, 
over  the  skylight  sash,  and  catching  it  as  it  unwound 
and  came  back  into  the  room,  drew  himself  up  and 
reached  a  place  of  safety  upon  the  roof  of  the  fated 
building;  from  whence  he  leaped  quickly  to  the  side 
walk — with  which  it  was  by  this  time  on  a  level — only 
a  second  or  two  before  it  disappeared  from  sight, 
swallowed  up  with  most  of  its  guests,  like  many  a 
neighboring  structure,  by  the  made,  and  now  yawning 
ground,  upon  which  a  short  moment  before  it  had  so 
firmly  stood. 

Coupled  with  overwhelming  gratitude  for  his  own 
deliverance  from  the  awful  death  which  he  saw  him 
self  to  have  so  narrowly  escaped,  there  was  at  once 
from  Robert  Manning's  heart,  an  outpouring  of  deep 
est  thankfulness  that  his  now  ungovernable  mother 
had  been  taken  out  of  the  city  before  this  calamity  had 
come  upon  it;  for  that  it  was  a  calamity,  and  direful, 
the  scene  into  which  he  had  stepped  most  indisputably 
proved. 

Utterly  collapsed,  or  partially  wrecked  buildings, 
dangerously  leaning  ones,  and  many  unsafe,  though 
apparently  intact  because  still  standing,  met  the  eye 
at  every  turn.  Running  the  scale  from  cottage,  flat, 
apartment  or  rooming  house,  in  the  residence  portion, 
to  the  flimsy  structures  of  the  market  district, — whose 
sudden,  simultaneous  fall  at  that  early  hour  had 
caused  the  death  of  hosts  of  market-men,  buyers  and 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  447 

horses — and  the  handsome,  many-storied  temples  to 
Mammon,  in  the  business  center;  glaring  evidences  of 
the  havoc  wrought.  While  tons  upon  tons  of  debris 
lay  piled  up  in  the  streets,  a  conglomerate  mass  of 
building  material, — from  which  a  choking  white  dust 
yet  lingered  in  the  air — and  every  variety  of  house 
hold  and  office  equipment.  Telling  in  part,  the  great 
money  loss  which  had  been  entailed  upon  the  unfor 
tunate  community. 

Miles  of  wrenched,  twisted  street  car  rails,  still 
clung  fantastically  to  upheaved  or  depressed  roadbeds. 
While  frequent  gaping  fissures  in  the  ground,  wit 
nessed  to  the  writhing  contortions  of  the  powers  be 
low,  so  recently  ended;  for  the  big  clock  down  the 
street  had  stopped  at  exactly  5:13,  and  it  was  now  but 
four  minutes  later  by  his  own  still  ticking  watch. 

Thousands  of  scantily  dressed  men,  women  and  chil 
dren,  who  had  fled  terror  stricken  from  their  homes 
or  temporary  lodgings  into  the  open,  were  about  him ; 
their  blanched  cheeks  and  hushed  voices  bearing  un 
spoken  testimony  to  an  overwhelming  sense  of  en 
counter  with  the  Infinite.  Members  of  unbroken  fami 
lies  silently  embraced,  faintly  smiling  into  each  other's 
eyes  the  joy  and  thankfulness  their  over- full  hearts 
forbade  them  to  utter;  while  members  of  others  less 
fortunate  and  oppressed  with  fear,  ran  wildly  about, 
eagerly  searching  hither  and  yon  among  the  agitated 
throng,  for  a  missing  loved  one.  And  many,  alas! 


448  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

with  streaming  eyes  and  quivering  lips,  mourned  for 
the  dying  and  the  dead.  It  was  a  weird,  awful,  heart- 
clutching,  never-to-be-forgotten  scene. 

Yet,  in  the  main,  they  were  huddled  together  in 
unemotional  groups,  commenting  in  low  tones  upon 
what  had  occurred,  and  waiting,  with  dread  expect 
ancy  written  upon  their  faces,  for — what?  More, 
surely;  perhaps  even  worse.  For  the  strange  dead- 
ness,  the  oppressive,  unnatural  stillness  of  the  at 
mosphere,  boded  no  good. 

Nearly  three  hours  of  this  tense  waiting,  and  then 
came  another  and  final  frightening  upheaval,  which, 
by  razing  the  many  previously  weakened  structures, 
increased  the  mortality,  and  completed  the  work  of 
demolition  by  earthquake. 

But  long  ere  this,  a  new  cause  for  alarm  had  arisen. 
In  fact,  the  first  and  great  temblor  was  but  passed, 
before  dozens  of  fires  had  broken  out  in  the  Southern 
and  Eastern  sections  of  the  city ;  and  soon  great  banks 
of  smoke,  hung  like  a  pall  against  the  sky,  hazily 
obscuring  the  early  morning  Sun.  Yet  no  real 
anxiety  had  been  felt  at  first,  for  San  Francisco's  con 
fidence  in  the  skill,  valor,  and  prowess,  of  its  superior 
Fire  Department,  was  as  great  and  unshakable  as  its 
pride  was  infinite  and  pardonable. 

At  length,  however,  a  shout  of  horror  went  up. 
The  city  is  burning  and  there  is  no  water!  we  are 
doomed!  we  are  doomed!  they  cried,  with  ashen  faces. 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  449 

For  broken  mains  could  supply  no  water  to  fireplugs; 
and  this  valiant  band  of  fire-fighters  (as  brave  as  the 
bravest  ever),  though  battling  like  demons  with  axe 
and  pick  and  spade,  could  not  long  stay  a  very  tempest 
of  flame,  with  empty  hose. 

Then  it  was  that  a  few  half-clad  families,  fleeing 
empty-handed  for  their  very  lives  to  the  higher 
ground,  became  the  vanguard  of  that  continuous, 
homogeneous  procession  of  impoverished,  but  un 
daunted  ones  who,  for  more  than  two  days  and  nights, 
kept  up  a  constant  retreating  from  one  point  of  sup 
posed  safety  to  another,  before  the  insidious  approach 
and  shriveling  heat  of  the  insatiable  fire ; 

Moving  onward,  ever  onward,  uncomplaining,  calm, 
Grateful  for  each  offered  kindness  and  its  healing 

balm; 
Scant  of  dress,  begrimed  and  wearied,  their  belongings 

few, 
Oft  with  La-res  and  Pe-na-tes  hugged  to  bosoms  true. 

Until,  footsore  and  exhausted,  upwards  of  three 
hundred  thousand  homeless,  hungry  people,  had  at 
last  reached  places  of  safety  and  rest,  upon  the  soft, 
white  sands  of  the  ocean's  beach,  or  the  green  swards 
of  the  out-lying  parks  and  pleasure  grounds. 

During  that  fearful  baptism,  the  subject  of  these 
pages  had  borne  himself  like  a  very  hero ;  'a  workman 


450  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed.'  Fever  burned  in 
his  veins;  his  famished  stomach  clamored  for  long 
denied  food;  but  once  more  his  old  unselfish  self,  he 
heeded  them  not.  From  the  very  moment  of  his 
escape  from  the  sinking  prison  in  which  he  had  been 
caught,  gratitude  for  the  safety  of  himself  and  his, 
had  found  expression  in  the  performance  of  innumer 
able  praiseworthy  deeds  of  mercy  and  duty. 

All  through  that  first  long,  exhausting  forenoon,  he 
had  been  seen  in  the  thick  and  front  of  a  noble  army 
of  Good  Samaritans  who,  taking  their  lives  in  their 
hands,  forced  their  way  to  the  relief  of  the  needy; 
'neath  leaning  walls,  up  tottering  staircases,  past  dart 
ing  tongues  of  flame  and  through  clouds  of  suffocat 
ing  smoke,  releasing  the  pinioned  and  imprisoned, 
tenderly  raising  the  helpless  wounded  and  sick  and 
sending  them  where  healing  and  care  might  be  found, 
soothing  and  ministering  to  the  dying,  and  reverently 
closing  the  eyes  and  screening  the  set  faces  of  the 
dead  from  the  curious  gaze  of  the  vulgar  and  the 
heat  and  glare  of  the  Sun,  snatched  yet  a  moment  to 
lay  their  lifeless  bodies  out  of  the  path  of  the  crazed 
and  hurrying  throngs. 

Then  when  the  early  afternoon  had  witnessed  the 
unexpected  leaping  of  the  mighty  conflagration  over 
the  supposed  impassable  barriers  to  its  progress,  and 
the  ravenous  flames  began  a  mad  rush  in  the  direction 
of  his  own  place  of  business,  Robert  had  hastened 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  451 

thither;  and  for  five  long  hours  had  labored  cease 
lessly  and  alone,  to  save  the  valuable  books  and  docu 
ments.  For  aside  from  himself,  there  was  not  a 
trusted  attache  of  the  place — his  employer  included — 
who  did  not  make  their  homes  in  one  or  other  of  the 
city's  big  bedrooms  across  the  bay. 

Back  and  forth  the  faithful  young  man  hurried, 
carrying  his  heavy  loads  often  through  crackling  lanes 
of  fire,  his  life  constantly  endangered  by  falling  tim 
bers  and  crumbling  walls.  Climbing  over  great  piles 
of  smoking  masonry,  and  picking  his  difficult  way 
through  tangles  of  twisted  iron  he  went,  until,  with 
the  thrill  of  satisfaction  that  accompanies  fancied 
security  in  such  a  situation,  he  had  settled  down  finally 
to  mount  guard  over  his  treasures,  blocks  beyond  the 
danger  line. 

But  a  fire  which  consumed  a  building  a  minute,  and 
as  though  'twere  a  thinking  intelligence,  again  and 
again  doubled  back  upon  its  track  or  made  wide  de 
tours,  to  lick  up  whatever  food  for  flame  had  been 
overlooked  in  its  first  furious  onslaught,  was  not  to 
be  thus  cheated  of  its  coveted  prey;  and  after  com 
pelling  three  such  onerous  moves,  at  last,  gloatingly 
snatched  his  treasures  from  under  the  very  nose  of 
their  routed  custodian. 

Heartsick  at  the  final  failure  of  his  important  un 
dertaking,  yet  comforted,  perforce,  by  the  sense  of  a 
noble  duty  well  done,  Robert  Manning,  for  the  first 


452  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

time,  now  felt  himself  free  to  think  of  his  own  home 
upon  the  brow  of  a  centrally  located  hill,  well  on  to 
a  mile  away;  and  towards  this  he  now  bent  his  steps. 
It  was  a  long,  hard  climb  for  the  wornout  limbs,  and 
yet  to  turn  his  back  for  a  little  upon  the  roar  and  hiss 
of  the  maddening  blaze,  and  exchange  the  harrowing 
scenes  of  the  day  for  those  less  awful  and  depressing, 
was  relieving;  for,  although  evidences  in  plenty  of 
the  disastrous  work  of  disturbed  Nature  were  not 
lacking  even  in  this  more  favored  locality,  his  eyes 
were  here  spared  the  dismal  sight  of  gutted  buildings 
and  blackened  walls,  and  battalions  of  half-crazed 
fellow  creatures  in  precipitate  flight. 

"Surely  God  has  been  good  to  us  up  here!"  he  ex 
claimed,  at  sight  of  the  trifling  loss  in  his  own  home. 
And  when  he  had  looked  down  from  his  point  of 
vantage  upon  the  many  bare,  smouldering  miles  that 
had  been  devastated  between  sun-up  and  sun-down, 
he  exclaimed  again  and  gratefully,  "Yes,  God  has  been 
very  good  to  us!" 

The  dark  of  evening  had  now  fallen,  but  the 
reflection  from  the  lurid  skies  furnished  abundant  il 
lumination  ;  ample  substitute  for  an  unobtainable,  even 
if  not  forbidden  light,  in  the  house;  and  making  his 
way  without  difficulty  to  the  well  filled  cupboards, 
Robert  essayed  to  eat.  But  the  sight  of  food  now 
sickened,  and  the  famished  man  turned  from  it  with 
loathing. 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  453 

"It  will  come  in  good  when  Winnie  gets  back  to 
morrow,"  he  soliloquized,  as  he  locked  and  left  the 
house;  for  while  he  no  longer  shrank  from  remaining 
in  it,  and  the  comfortable  bed  looked  almost  irre 
sistibly  tempting  to  his  weary  frame,  both  the  mind 
and  body  of  the  really  ailing  man  were  now  so 
wrought  up,  so  in  commotion,  that  to  sleep  were  im 
possible. 

Picking  his  way  therefore  down  again  through  the 
deserted  streets  of  the  hill,  Robert  returned  to  the 
lower  levels  which  skirted  the  raging  holocaust.  Back 
to  where  the  fear-filled  populace — nervous  though 
strangely  calm — peopled  the  glowing  streets,  or  kept 
guard  over  their  possessions  in  the  near-by  parks  and 
city  squares,  which  now  seemed  like  vast  department 
stores,  so  crammed  were  they  with  their  varied  as 
sortment  of  household  effects  and  personal  belongings. 

Mingling  with  the  surging  multitudes  for  further 
kindly  service  as  occasion  arose,  the  lone  young  man 
spent  the  night  with  them  in  the  out-of-doors;  now 
moving  on  to  places  of  greater  safety,  at  the  com 
mand  of  the  dynamiting  crews,  now  apprehensively 
watching  the  steady  encroachments  of  their  implacable 
foe.  Again,  chained  to  the  spot  by  a  compelling 
fascination  for  the  awful  grandeur  of  the  spectacle 
under  the  canopy  of  night,  as  the  rapacious  flames 
sprung  with  fiendish  ferocity  from  building  to  build 
ing,  tauntingly  thrusting  their  angry,  forked  tongues 


454  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

through  the  charring  doorways  and  casements  of  story 
after  story,  to  burst  at  last  with  triumphant  hiss 
through  the  dismembered  roofs  and  shoot  defiantly 
upward,  as  though  to  scorch  the  very  heavens  them 
selves  ;  already  apparently  in  a  blaze.  While  from  time 
to  time,  their  sympathetic  interest  would  center  in 
accounts  which  now  began  to  filter  in,  of  the  amount 
of  damage  done  by  the  great  Earthquake,  elsewhere. 

It  was  not  until  almost  dawn  of  the  following 
morning,  however,  that  news  was  received  which 
caused  Robert  Manning  to  so  conduct  himself  for  a 
while,  as  to  be  considered  by  those  near  at  hand  a 
victim  of  the  disaster  who  had  suddenly  lost  his  mind. 
With  cheeks  ablaze  with  fever,  and  in  the  throes  of 
a  consequent  splitting  headache,  he  had  but  just  be 
fore  dropped  down  upon  one  of  the  much  trampled 
grass  plots  of  a  little  park;  for  the  long  protesting 
limbs  had  at  last  refused  to  support  him  longer. 
Seated  near,  two  men  eagerly  scanned  a  copy  of  an 
evening  paper,  just  received  in  a  roundabout  way 
from  one  of  the  trans-bay  cities;  when  suddenly,  one 
of  the  twain  exclaimed  with  horror,  "Oh!  here's  the 
very  worst  yet!  A  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  inmates 
killed,  many  escaped,  and  the  buildings  a  total  wreck ! 
Poor  Agnews!" 

"Agnews,  man!"  shrieked  Robert  Manning,  wildly; 
springing  from  the  ground  at  mention  of  the  name. 
''What  about  Agnews?  Give  me  that  paper!"  And 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  455 

snatching  the  sheet  from  the  hands  of  his  astonished 
neighbor,  he  read  the  shocking  news. 

"AGNEWS  INSANE  ASYLUM  TOTALLY 
WRECKED. 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTY  PATIENTS,  TWO  DOCTORS,  AND 
MANY    ATTENDANTS    KILLED,    AND     HUNDREDS     IN 
JURED DANGEROUS       MANIACS       HANDCUFFED 

AND  CHAINED  TO  TREES   IN  THE  GROUNDS 

A   SCORE   HAVE   ESCAPED BALANCE 

OF    THE    TWELVE    HUNDRED    IN 
MATES    GATHERED    IN    PENS 
AND    STRONGLD    GUARDED. 

Marvelous   heroism   and   noble    conduct   of   those   in 
charge!" 

As  thou  it  had  stung  him,  did  the  crazed  man  drop 
the  unoffending  Herald  from  his  hands,  and  forgetting 
thanks  or  an  apology  to  its  owner  for  his  rudeness, 
or  to  pick  up  the  derby  laid  aside  to  cool  his  burning 
brow,  bolted  from  the  spot  as  though  pursued  by  all 
the  Furies  of  an  Inferno,  and  made  for  the  nearest 
livery. 

But  no  conveyance  was  to  be  had  here,  for  many 
of  the  horses  had  been  killed  and  coaches  smashed, 


*The  above  announcement  is  quoted  verbatim  from  sheet 
of  that  date  still  in  possession  of  the  author,  who  later 
verified  the  statement  by  inquiry  of  the  Asylum  management. 


456  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

by  the  collapse  of  most  of  the  walls  during  the  morn 
ing's  temblor.  Nor  did  any  better  success  attend  his 
applications  elsewhere,  for  where  stocks  had  not  been 
destroyed,  they  had  either  been  given  or  impressed 
for  use  by  the  authorities;  neither  was  there  an  auto 
obtainable  at  any  of  the  garages  visited.  So  in  de 
spair,  Robert  at  last  set  out  on  foot  for  the  scene  of 
the  blood-curdling  happenings  some  fifty  miles  away, 
of  which  he  had  read,  and  which  concerned  him  so 
vitally. 

Spurred  on  by  the  exigencies  of  the  case  and  tem 
porarily  fortified  with  the  unnatural  strength  of  fever, 
he  sped  along  at  an  incredible  pace,  walking  when  he 
must,  riding  when  he  could.  And  several  acceptable 
even  though  short  lifts,  were  given  the  hatless,  gaunt 
looking  man  as  he  got  out  into  the  open  country ;  his 
grimy  appearance  from  the  unusual  labors  of  the  day 
before,  and  the  pitiful  look  of  terror  which  shot  from 
his  eyes,  stamping  him  a  demented  refugee,  his  con 
dition  called  forth  naught  but  kindness  from  all. 

And  to  them  all,  as  to  himself  when  alone,  he  talked 
unceasingly,  though  seldom  coherently;  for  he  could 
not  allow  himself  quiet  in  which  to  think  of  the  hor 
rifying  circumstances  which  must  await  him  at  his 
Mecca.  Death,  manacles  and  chains,  escape,  bodily 
injury, — whatever  it  might  be,  the  responsibility  for 
it,  the  sin  of  it,  lay  at  his  door;  and  he  dared  not  dwell 
upon  the  frenzying  thought,  made  a  thousand-fold 
more  maddening  by  remembrance  of  the  undamaged 
home,  in  which  had  been  found  perfect  safety. 


EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE  457 

When  the  distance  had  been  about  half  covered, 
continued  efforts  along  the  road  to  secure  some  means 
of  transportation  were  rewarded  with  success;  and 
by  doubling  the  hire  asked,  that  last  installment  was 
made  in  such  good  time,  that  five  hours  from  the 
beginning,  found  the  distracted  man  at  the  end  of 
his  harrowing  journey. 

When  he  leaped  from  the  still  quivering  buggy, 
and  rushing  into  the  improvised  office  of  the  wrecked 
institution,  pallid  as  marble,  his  whole  frame  visibly 
trembling  like  an  Aspen,  and  in  a  hoarse  whisper  of 
inquiry  attempted  to  ask  for  news  of  his  stricken 
mother,  he  could  not  so  much  as  articulate  her  name. 

But  he  was  known  to  the  attendants,  and  for  answer 
to  his  look  of  agonized  query,  he  was  led  to  a  tent 
close  by  and  shown  that  mother,  unhurt  in  body,  and 
mercifully  clothed  anew  with  the  priceless  garment  of 
her  own  right  mind,  skillfully  assisting  the  nurses  to 
care  for  the  injured. 

A  moral  shock  had  deprived  of  reason  in  an  instant ; 
a  material  one  had  restored  it  as  suddenly  and  com 
pletely.  And  when  Robert's  incredulous  eyes  had 
seen  what  great  things  the  Lord  had  done,  overcome 
with  emotion  he  faltered,  brokenly,  "Surely — God  has 
— been  good  to — me!  Yes,  God — has  been — very — 
good — to" — • 

But  the  devout  acknowledgment  was  never  con 
cluded;  for  outraged  Nature  at  last  asserting  herself, 
her  transgressor  dropped  unconscious  to  the  floor. 


458  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

That  evening,  a  closed  carriage  was  seen  leaving 
the  grounds  of  the  Agnews  Asylum  for  the  Insane, 
occupied  by  the  same  three:  a  mother,  a  son,  and  a 
devoted  servant,  who  but  two  days  before,  in  a  similar 
carriage,  had  made  a  repugnant  and  gloomy  trip  from 
the  county  of  San  Francisco,  down  into  the  county  of 
Santa  Clara.  But  the  horses  drawing  this  carriage 
were  headed  in  the  opposite  direction;  and  the  jour 
ney,  though  a  sorrowful  and  anxious  one,  could  not 
be  repugnant  or  gloomy,  for  now  it  was  being  made 
by  a  sane  mother,  taking  to  his  own  home  a  son,  who, 
though  stricken  in  body,  was  yet  blessedly,  of  sound 
mind. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

REFUGEES A  VICTIM A   CONFESSION. 

"So  the  little  family  *  *  *  was  obliged  to 
join  the  vast  army  of  refugees  *  *  *  and 
become  pensioners  of  the  world's  unstinted 
bounty.** 

"  'Both  iv  'er  legs  is  bruk, — savin'  yer  pris- 
ince — and  sumthin'  inside,  too,  the  docther 
thinks-'  " 

"  'I  literally  tortured  my  sweet,  young  charge 
into  compliance  with  my  wish.'  " 

When  Robert  Manning  walked  out  of  the  burning 
city,  twenty-four  hours  after  its  rough-housing  by 
Nature,  nearly  one-third  of  its  area  was  a  desolate 
waste;  an  untraversable  wilderness  of  smouldering 
ruins.  Nothing  but  cellars  filled  with  mountains  of 
debris,  from  which  yet  issued  flame  and  smoke,  and 
frowning  walls,  told  where  its  houses  of  business  had 
once  stood.  Of  its  houses  of  worship,  education,  news, 
healing,  mercy,  mirth,  or  public  accommodation,  still 
less  marked  the  former  sites  of  by  far  the  greater 
number;  while  virtually  all  of  its  banks,  factories 
and  shops,  and  two-thirds  of  its  humbler  dwellings, 
besides  its  notorious  'Chinatown,'  had  been  swept 
from  off  the  city's  map;  these  all  having  occupied 
the  lower  level  grounds  and  modest  heights,  of  its 
Southern  and  Southwestern  extremities. 

And  still  the  progress  of  the  great  fire  was  un- 


4<50  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

checked.  A  roaring,  seething  furnace  of  flame  still 
forged  steadily  ahead,  notwithstanding  the  dogged 
persistence  of  the  brave  fire-laddies,  and  the  assisting 
volunteers  who  so  nobly  recruited  their  thinned  ranks ; 
all  of  whom,  grimy  and  haggard,  with  fainting 
stomach,  parched  throat  and  tongue,  and  blistering 
hand,  still  clung  like  leeches  to  their  assigned  posts 
of  duty,  furiously  wielding  their  inadequate  weapons 
of  attack. 

Yet  that  it  could  continue  its  advance  until  it  had 
swept  up  the  central  eminences,  and  still  further 
glutted  itself  upon  the  more  pretentious  homes  of 
this  strictly  residential  quarter,  not  omitting  even  the 
mansions  of  many  of  the  very  wealthy  which  sat  in 
such  crowning  splendor  upon  the  pinnacles  of  its 
highest  hills,  was  deemed  impossible.  And  this  pre 
sumption  of  the  absolute  safety  of  this  neighborhood 
— the  one  in  which  he  himself  lived — had  come  as  a 
comforting  thought  to  the  toiling  son  more  than  once 
through  the  varying  situations  of  the  trying  day;  for 
when  the  absent  mother  should  one  day  return  to  her 
home  as  he  would  have  her, — and  tried  to  hope  it 
might  be, — to  find  everything  as  it  had  been  of  old 
would  surely  enhance  the  pleasure  of  that  home 
coming.  "And  perchance,"  thought  he,  "we  might 
even  decide  to  stay,  now,  and  profit  by  growing  up 
with  the  greater  city,  already  being  talked  of  and 
planned  for." 

But  when  the  young  man  was  driven  back  into  it 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  461 

less  than  a  day  later,  the  costly  palaces,  with  their 
invaluable  treasures  and  works  of  Art,  had  fed  the 
flames,  too;  the  burnt  area  had  been  doubled;  while 
still,  blocks  ahead,  could  be  heard  the  continuous 
boom,  boom,  of  the  wrecking  crews,  telling  of  the 
appalling  amount  of  preventive  demolition  of  what 
men  call,  worth  while,  yet  going  on.  And  even  had 
he  been  conscious,  he  could  not  have  located  the  exact 
site  of  his  own  home ;  for  nothing  but  ashes  and  cin 
ders  now  covered  the  spot. 

So  the  unfortunate  little  family,  homeless,  and  for 
the  time,  destitute,  with  the  man  upon  whom  it  could 
have  leant  laid  low  by  illness,  was  obliged  to  join  the 
vast  army  of  Refugees,  and  become  tent-dwellers  in 
one  of  the  many  now  thickly  populated  city  parks; 
places  where,  for  months  afterward,  the  one-time  rich 
and  the  always  poor,  saint  and  sinner,  learned  and  ig 
norant,  the  cultured  and  the  uncouth,  dwelt  amicably 
together  side  by  side,  in  the  inclusive  bonds  of  frater 
nal  good  fellowship. 

Much  of  needless  privation  if  not  of  actual  distress, 
would  surely  have  been  the  lot  of  the  Mannings  at 
this  time,  had  they  been  alone;  for  though  of  neces 
sity,  for  a  spell,  pensioners  of  the  world's  unstinted 
bounty, — and  grateful  ones,  too —  they  would  natur 
ally  have  been  of  the  number  to  shrink  from  making 
their  wants  known.  But  now,  the  capable,  old  servant 
of  a  lifetime,  became  literally  the  head  of  the  house. 
For  Robert — like  Peter's  wife's  mother — lay  sick  of 


462  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

a  fever;  and  while  the  mistress  watched  and  tended, 
she  it  was  who  kept  the  strange  machinery  of  the  new 
manner  of  existence,  well  oiled  and  running  smoothly. 

It  was  Winnie,  who  took  her  place  in  the  long, 
tiresome  bread-lines  of  daily  sustenance;  always  with 
senses  alert  and  tongue  quick  to  speak  up  for  a  prom 
ising  tid-bit  for  her  beloved  mistress.  Winnie,  who 
ran  blocks  with  her  can,  to  secure  a  share  of  the 
scanty  milk  supply  for  her  sick  young  master.  Wm- 
nie,  who  always  managed  somehow  to  learn  whenever 
and  wherever  supplies  of  wearing  apparel  or  house 
hold  necessities,  were  to  be  given  out,  and  managed 
also  to  be  first  in  at  the  distribution,  for  the  sake  of 
her  precious  charges.  Yes,  and  it  was  Winnie,  who 
finally  lifted  them  both  out  of  the  Slough  of  Despond, 
— so  to  speak — and  brought  peace  and  happiness  to 
others  long  strangers  to  it,  as  well.  For  with  the  big 
heart  and  loquacious  tongue  of  the  race  from  whence 
she  had  sprung,  the  woman  could  not  be  other  than 
sociable;  and  it  was  this  very  sociableness  which  did 
it  all. 

Now  the  forming  of  new  acquaintanceships  by 
many,  at  this  time,  without  the  formality  of  an  intro 
duction,  was  but  a  natural  sequence  from  the  meeting 
with  the  same  people  daily,  in  the  long  lines  before 
the  relief  stations.  For  the  tedium  of  the  always  slow 
advance  must  be  lessened,  and  as  best  it  could;  ordi 
nary  human  nature  could  not  have  stood  the  strain, 
otherwise.  And  by  the  law  of  natural  selection,  like 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  463 

drawing  to  itself  like,  Winnie  McCaffrey  was  not  long 
in  rinding  a  congenial  coterie  of  her  own  class;  and 
her  exceptionally  gruesome  experience  of  the  disaster 
was  always  listened  to  with  such  flattering  attention, 
that  the  poor  soul  gradually  came  to  take  even  a  cer 
tain  pride  in  having  it  to  relate. 

Not  that  this  woman,  alone,  or  above  all  others, 
was  given  to  dwelling  upon  the  calamity.  Far  from 
it;  for  in  those  early  post-earthquake  and  fire  days, 
there  was  place  for  no  other  thought  or  subject,  in 
the  minds  and  upon  the  tongues  of  its  victims  of  all 
classes,  than  the  sensations  and  incidents  of  those 
three  terrible  days  and  worse  nights.  And  not  only 
was  the  fabric  of  good  manners  frequently  strained 
to  the  tearing  point — and  beyond — by  the  overpower 
ing  temptation  to  break  in  upon  the  harrowing  recital 
of  another,  with  an  account  of  'how  me  and  mine  felt 
and  did/  but  the  spirit  of  Ananias  seemed  also  some 
what  abroad  in  the  land,  it  must  be  admitted.  Yet 
who  could  not  forgive  a  breach  of  etiquette,  or  even 
an  occasional  careless  handling  of  the  truth,  by  a  peo 
ple  who  had  been  subjected  to  so  long  and  fierce  a 
mental  and  nervous  strain.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that 
they  should  talk,  anyway ;  for : 

'The  grief  that  does  not  speak, 

Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart  and  bids  it  break.' 

In  this   way,   four   weeks   of   community   life   had 


464  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

passed,  and  with  them  had  passed  the  crisis  in  Robert 
Manning's  sickness,  also ;  for  the  consuming  fever  had 
burned  itself  out,  and  the  period  of  convalescence 
having  set  in  with  none  but  favorable  symptoms,  great 
joy  and  thanksgiving  pervaded  the  little  household. 

One  morning  about  this  time,  Winnie  McCaffrey 
appeared  in  the  presence  of  her  mistress,  bringing 
a  very  moving  tale  about  an  injured  woman,  then  lying 
in  a  hopeless  condition  in  a  humble  home  a  little  far 
ther  out. 

"I  seen  the  gur'l  many  times  befure  in  the 
line,  an'  it's  a  likely  lukin'  lass  she  is,  too" ; — was  the 
way  the  soft-hearted  creature  prefaced  her  story — 
"but  niver  got  ter  shpake  wid  'er  ontil  this  blessed 
mornin'.  They're  sthoppin'  wid  an'  owld  woman  as 

kapes  a  little  shop  out  on  G Street; — the  gur'ls 

aunt — an'  shure  it's  there  she  was  afther  carryin'  'er 
misthres  in  'er  own  arrums  that  mornin',  wanst  they 
got  'er  out,  an's  ben  a  takin'  care  iv  'er  iver  sense; 
God  bless  'er!  The  side  o'  the  house  fell  in  onto  'er 
in  bed,"  she  paused  to  explain,  hurriedly,  "an'  both 
iv  'er  legs  is  bruk, — saving  yer  prisince — an'  sumthin' 
inside,  too,  the  doctor  thinks,  for  it's  cupfuls  o'  blud 
she's  ben  a  spittin'  up  iver  sence.  She  only  cum  from 
Shecargo  a  few  months  back — wurse  luck! — an'  wuz 
kapin'  a  shwell  boordin'  house  down  town,  loike  she 
did  afore  she  cum  here.  Mary  Lanigan's  ben  a  wurk- 
in'  fer  'er  back  there  these  four  years  gone,  an'  luvs 
'er  most  as  much,  it  looks  loike,  as  /  do  yer  own  purty 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  465 

self,  me  darlint.  The  poor  craythur  can't  live  much 
longer  the  docther's  afeerd,  an'  I'm  a  thinkin'  she 
must  git  orful  lonesome  fer  sum-un  ter  talk  ter.  Av 
coorse,  there's  Mary  an'  the  owld  woman,  but  none 
iv  'er  own  kind,  I  mane.  May-be  yer'd  loike  ter  be 
goin'  ter  cheer  'er  up  a1  bit  yerself  this  afternoon,  me 
darlint.  Yer  kin  thrust  Masther  Robert  wid  me,  now." 

"Why  certainly,  Winnie,  I'd  be  very  glad  to  go  if 
I  thought  I  could  be  of  any  comfort  to  the  poor 
woman" ;  replied  the  attentive  listener ;  her  lively  sym 
pathy  all  astir  at  the  sad  tale  of  suffering  and  loneli 
ness.  "It  seems  a  very  delicate  thing  though  to  thrust 
one's  self  upon  a  perfect  stronger  unasked" ;  she  con 
tinued,  hesitatingly.  "It  might  be  an  unwelcome  in 
trusion.  I  hardly  know  how  I  should  feel  myself 
under  such  circumstances." 

"Now  don't  you  be  afeerd  about  the  introosion  part 
iv  it,  me  darlint.  I  know  she'll  be  glad  ter  see  yer, 
fer  wasn't  the  gur'l  herself  afther  tellin'  me  that  she 
knew  'er  misthress  was  jist  a  pinin'  fer  sum'un  ter 
talk  ter?"  persisted  the  servant. 

"Well,  what's  the  lady's  name,  Winnie?" 

"Shure  the  gur'l  niver  wanst  mintioned  it,  an*  I 
niver  thought  ter  ask,  me  darlint" ;  confessed  the  other, 
rather  sheepishly.  "But  'er  own  name's  Mary  Lani- 
gan,  annyway,"  she  continued,  brightening,  an'  it's  a 
little  shop,  an'  the  number's  2000,  an'  yer  can't  miss 
it,  nohow";  she  explained,  volubly. 

Surely  there  is  'a,  Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends.' 


466  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

Margaret  Manning  was  not  now  being  led  by  pure 
accident,  as  it  would  appear,  to  the  bedside  of  the  very 
woman  of  all  others,  who  for  six  long  years  she  had 
been  wishing  most  anxiously  to  meet.  For  this  seri 
ously  injured  victim  of  the  dreadful  Earthquake,  was 
none  other  than  our  old  acquaintance,  Mrs.  George 
Benedict  Nichols,  formerly  of  Chicago.  Aunt  of  Alice 
Nichols  and  the  late  Gerald  Harding;  whose  untruth 
ful,  dastardly  letter,  announcing  the  marriage  of  her 
nephew  with  the  fiancee  of  Robert  Manning — which 
the  reader  will  now  call  to  mind — had  robbed  the 
trusting  heart  of  the  youth  of  his  faith  in  womankind, 
and  in  so  doing,  had  hardened  it,  and  paved  the  way 
for  the  long  train  of  evil  consequences  that  ensued. 
Yet  nothing  could  have  wrung  from  her  the  ques 
tion  by  which  she  sought  to  vindicate  her  never- 
wavering  faith  in  the  dearly  loved  daughter  of  her 
deceased  friend,  when  opportunity  thus,  at  last,  un 
expectedly  offered.  For  out  of  her  kindness  of  heart, 
Mrs.  Manning  had  acted  upon  the  thoughtful  sug 
gestion  of  her  maid,  without  delay ;  and  when  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  the  unknown  sufferer, — with  an 
apology  and  explanation  ready  to  offer  for  her  intru 
sion — her  astonishment  to  find  here  the  old-time  friend 
was  perhaps  the  greater  of  the  two,  although  the  sur 
prise  was  a  shock  to  both  women;  almost  too  great 
for  the  sick  one. 

The  consideration  which  sealed  the  lips  of  the  one, 
however,  was  equalled  by  the  tact  and  magnanimity 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  467 

of  the  other;  who,  when  her  nerves  had  grown  some 
what  steadier  again,  as  she  listened  to  her  caller's 
tender  out-pouring  of  sympathy  and  anxious  wish  to 
be  of  assistance  in  some  way,  soon  inquired  after  the 
son.  ''He  is  married  by  this  time,  I  suppose?"  she 
ventured. 

"No,  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  have  Robert  all  to  my 
self  yet,"  answered  the  mother,  "and  I  hardly  think 
he  will  ever  marry";  she  added,  cheerfully;  with  a 
generous  pretense  as  though  naturally  well  pleased  at 
the  prospect.  Upon  hearing  which,  Mrs.  Nichols,  en 
feebled  though  she  was,  launched  at  once  into  the 
subject  of  his  jilting;  confessing  her  sole  responsi 
bility  for  it,  and  frankly  stating  the  reason. 

Vividly  and  at  length  did  she  rehearse  the  long, 
heart-rending  struggle  of  the  distracted  girl  between 
love  and  duty ;  in  no  wise  sparing  herself,  as  she  told 
of  the  exacted  promise  of  an  immediate  and  full  ex 
planation  to  Robert,  through  a  letter  to  the  mother, 
and  of  her  intended  and  diabolical  breaking  of  that 
satisfying  promise.  Of  their  intercepted  letters  to 
Alice  she  next  confessed,  and  then  referred,  with 
shame,  to  the  final  writing  of  her  own  abominable  mis 
leading  one. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Manning,"  concluded  the  repentant 
woman,  visibly  shuddering  at  the  remembrance,  "I 
literally  tortured  my  sweet  young  charge  into  com 
pliance  with  my  wish,  and  then,  after  cruelly  robbing 
her  of  the  sweetest  and  most  precious  experience  life 


468  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

could  ever  give,  marriage  with  the  life-long  lover  in 
whom  her  fresh  young  heart  was  in  turn,  inseparably 
bound  up,  I  crowned  my  selfish  work  by  infamously 
casting  suspicion  upon  her  truthfulness  and  loyalty; 
and  I  have  not  known  a  single  happy  hour  since.  As 
I  have  looked  back  from  time  to  time  upon  the  dis 
tressing  occurrence,  it  has  seemed  impossible  that  it 
could  have  been  reality;  that  it  must  all  have  been  a 
shocking  dream.  For  loving  Alice  to  the  extent  I  did, 
how  I  could  ever  have  brought  myself  to  the  perform 
ance  of  such  a  cruel  act,  I  have  never  since  been  able 
to  determine.  But  oh,  life  is  such  a  complex  combina 
tion  of  possibles,"  she  continued, — as  though  lamely 
seeking  even  now,  to  justify  her  'cruel  act' — "and  what 
will  a  woman  not  do  or  dare  for  the  sake  of  the  man 
whom  she  deeply  loves?  Could  we  but  love  with  the 
heart  and  head  at  one  and  the  same  moment,"  she 
finished,  musingly,  "how  much  misery  the  world  would 
be  spared." 

The  enlightened  visitor  now  considerately  arose  to 
take  her  leave ;  for  although  the  call  had  been  a  short 
one,  its  shock  and  agitating  nature  had  made  it  full 
long  for  the  sick  woman,  who  nevertheless,  in  her 
exhaustion,  yet  voiced  the  deep  joy  of  heart  their 
Providential  meeting  had  brought.  "For  the  end  is 
not  far  distant,"  she  sighed,  "and  I  shall  die  a  relieved 
and  far  happier  woman  now  that  I  have  been  per 
mitted  to  set  my  dear  girl  right  in  your  eyes.  If  I 
could  but  see  her  once  more,  and  hear  her  sweet  voice 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  469 

say,  'I  forgive  you,  Aunt  Alice,'  I  think  I  could  leave 
the  world  contented." 

"I  have  never  been  able  to  bring  myself  to  doubt 
Alice,  Mrs.  Nichols,"  now  offered  the  other,  consol 
ingly,  "for  I  knew  her  beautiful  nature  too  well;  and 
I  have  always  felt  that  we  should  hear  a  justifiable 
reason  for  her  extraordinary  action,  some  day.  Robert's 
faith,  though,  was  unfortunately,  so  shaken,  that  her 
name  has  not  passed  between  us  for  years;  so  I  am 
naturally  more  than  thankful  for  our  unexpected  meet 
ing,  and  to  you  for  your  magnanimity  and  unselfish 
confidence.  Which  could  not  have  come  at  a  more 
opportune  time,  either,"  she  went  on,  "for  Robert  is 
but  just  now  recovering  from  a  severe  attack  of  ty 
phoid;  and  this  assurance  of  Alice's  fidelity  and  love, 
will  be  the  most  effective  tonic  we  could  give  him." 
And  leaving  her  afflicted  friend,  with  the  promise  of 
daily  visits  thereafter,  the  lighthearted  mother  sped 
rejoicing  to  the  bedside  of  her  waiting  son. 

"Could  you  stand  a  very  happy  surprise,  dear?"  she 
asked  with  eagerness ;  a  more  than  usually  happy  smile 
illuminating  her  loving  face,  as  she  took  the  maid's 
place  beside  him. 

"Sure,  mother,  and  glad  to  have  it" ;  replied  the  con 
valescing  one ;  his  hollow  eyes  lighting  up  with  pleased 
expectancy,  as  he  laid  an  emaciated  hand  in  that  of  his 
parent.  "It  wouldn't  be  you  to  bring  me  any  other 
kind." 

"Well  then,  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  in  the  beginning 


470  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

who  the  injured  stranger  upon  whom  I  have  been  call 
ing  proved  to  be" ;  commenced  the  mother.  "That  of 
itself  will  surprise  you  as  much  as  it  did  me,  I  fancy." 

But  at  the  first  mention  of  the  long  tabooed  name 
of  "Nichols,"  Robert  Manning's  face  instantly  dark 
ened;  the  old,  hard  look  at  once  crept  back  into  his 
eyes,  supplanting  the  pleased  expectancy  by  which  they 
had  been  momentarily  lighted,  and  a  silencing  hand 
began  to  go  up  in  immediate  protest.  But  with  an 
appealing,  "Hear  me  to  the  end,  dear,"  the  mother 
pressed  it  gently  back  upon  the  coverlet,  and  continued 
her  recital,  until  she  had  repeated,  in  full,  the  story 
of  the  cruelty  and  perfidy  of  the  aunt,  and  the  touch 
ing  fidelity  of  the  sacrificed  niece. 

Gradually  had  the  hard  look  died  out  of  the  eyes  of 
the  sick  man  as  the  unusual  tale  grew,  while  the  an 
tagonistic  expression  upon  his  face  was  succeeded,  in 
turn,  by  those  of  astonishment,  incredulity,  indigna 
tion,  yearning,  and  at  last,  by  the  most  withering  self 
reproach;  but  not  until  the  pitiful  story  was  finished 
did  he  attempt  to  speak.  Then — with  not  unmanly 
tears  dimming  his  eyes  and  a  voice  far  from  steady — 
he  broke  out  remorsefully,  "And  her  heart  was  mine 
all  the  time,  and  yet  I  doubted  her?  Oh,  my  dear, 
szveet  Alice!"  he  moaned;  now  covering  his  convulsed 
face  with  shaking  hands,  "that  I  could  doubt  you, 
proves  me  to  have  been  unworthy  of  you ;  and  yet,  the 
agonizing  rack  upon  which  my  tortured  heart  has  been 
bound  all  these  bitter  years,  has  been,  that  even  though 
doubting,  I  could  not  cease  to  love  you !" 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  471 

Margaret  Manning  had  delicately  withdrawn  from 
the  presence  of  her  son,  leaving  him  alone,  for  a  little, 
with  his  overpowering  emotions.  As  she  came  back 
to  him  he  questioned  eagerly,  "Where  is  she  mother? 
I  must  have  her  forgiveness  for  the  great  wrong  I 
have  been  doing  her." 

"That  I  did  not  learn,  Son,  although  I  longed  to 
ask;  for  the  short  interview  was  of  course  very — even 
dangerously — agitating  to  Mrs.  Nichols,  I  feared,  and 
in  fact,  I  made  several,  though  unsuccessful  attempts 
to  end  it,  even  before  I  had  heard  as  much  as  I  did ; 
and  yet  the  tardy  confession  seemed  so  relieving,  that 
I  could  but  let  her  go  on.  However,  I  have  promised 
to  sit  with  her  a  part  of  each  day  hereafter,  and  if 
she  seems  to  me  able  tomorrow,  I  will  try  to  find  that 
out.  She  is  a  very  sick  woman  though,  Robert,  and 
it  breaks  my  heart  that  we  have  not  a  home  to  offer 
her.  I  am  very  glad,  however,  that  she  seems  to  be 
in  good  and  loving  hands." 

Now  to  learn  that  Robert  Manning  was  yet  a  single 
man,  had  proven  the  most  acceptable  news,  and  in 
spiriting,  that  could  have  been  brought  to  remorseful 
Mrs.  Nichols;  for  reparation  might  now  be  made  for 
the  great  wrong  that  she  had  done  him.  All  through 
the  weary,  wakeful  hours  of  the  night  following  her 
encounter  with  the  mother,  this  thought  had  imparted 
strength  to  bear  her  great  physical  sufferings;  and 
when  her  caller  returned  on  the  morrow, — bringing 
some  sick-room  dainties  the  warm-hearted  Winnie 


472  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

had  managed  to  prepare — happily  smiling,  despite  her 
pain  and  weakness,  her  first  words  of  greeting  were 
"They  may  have  each  other  yet,  Mrs.  Manning !" 

There  was  of  course,  no  need  to  inquire  who  'they' 
referred  to;  and  in  quick  surprise  the  other  eagerly 
asked,  "How  so,  Mrs.  Nichols?  Why  what  do  you 
mean?"  And  was  told  that  Alice  was  free  again. 
"My  nephew  was  accidentally  killed  last  year";  ex 
plained  the  woman. 

"You  are  quite  sure  of  this  ?"  exclaimed  the  mother. 
"Oh,  then  tell  me  where  she  may  be  found,  that  I  may 
bring  her  to  my  unhappy  boy!"  she  implored,  alto 
gether  forgetting  a  proper  expression  of  condolence 
to  the  bereaved  aunt,  in  her  selfish  joy  at  the  prospect 
of  such  unlocked  for  happiness  for  her  own  son. 

"Just  where  Alice  is  at  this  time  is  a  little  hard  to 
say,  for  since  her  marriage  I  have  seen  but  little  of 
her;  the  earlier  years  having  been  lived  abroad,  and 
later,  she  has  been  in  the  East,  where  I  have  never 
visited  her.  For  although  the  dear  girl  urged  me  to 
accept  a  home  with  her  after  my  husband's  death,  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  do  so,  but  have  been  pro 
viding  for  myself;  so  have  found  but  little  time  for 
going  about.  Her  last  letter,  however,  stated  that  she 
was  going  to  Paris  to  live,  and  would  take  her  leave 
of  America  the  middle  of  April;  and  I  should  no 
doubt  have  had  mail  with  a  European  address  before 
now,  if  it  had  not  been  for  our  calamity  here.  But  it 
is  liable  to  come  any  day,  you  know." 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  473 

"Paris  will  be  none  too  large  a  place  for  Robert 
to  find  her  in,  even  without  an  address;  returned  the 
mother  confidently ;  "and  with  such  a  quest  in  store,  it 
will  not  be  long  either,  before  he  is  able  to  start  upon 
it.  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you  as  I  would,  Mrs. 
Nichols,"  she  went  on  to  say, — gratefully  pressing  the 
feeble  hand  that  she  had  been  holding  as  they  talked — 
"for  the  joy  and  comfort  your  new  ground  for  hope 
will  be  to  us.  If  I  could  only  do  something  to  relieve 
your  sufferings,  I  should  be  so  happy.  Are  you  quite 
satisfied  with  your  physician  ?  And  has  he  ever  called 
any  one  else  in  consultation  ?"  she  finished,  solicitously. 

"Yes,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  Mrs.  Manning,  for 
Doctor  Woods  is  an  able  man,  as  you  know,  and  I 
feel  sure  is  doing  all  that  could  be  done  for  me.  I 
have  finally  consented  to  his  bringing  a  friend  to  con 
sult  with  him  tomorrow,  however;  an  eminent  physi 
cian  from  the  East,  somewhere,  who  was  taking  a 
little  rest  in  the  South,  it  seems,  and  came  up  from 
Los  Angeles  with  the  first  trainload  of  doctors  and 
nurses.  Dr.  Woods  is  very  anxious  to  have  his  opinion 
of  my  case,  but  I  feel  sure  that  it  will  be  useless"; 
she  added,  hopelessly.  "I  thank  you  for  your  interest 
though,  and  your  visits  have  done  me  a  world  of  good. 
I  shall  see  you  again  tomorrow,  I  hope?" 

Now  it  had  been  by  no  means  an  easy  matter  for 
Robert  Manning  to  possess  his  soul  in  patience,  dur 
ing  this  somewhat  longer  absence  of  his  mother  at  her 
second  call  upon  their  unfortunate  friend ;  so  when  she 


474  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

at  length  returned  and  entered  the  tent  in  which  he 
lay,  the  hollow  eyes  with  which  he  searched  her  ex 
pressive  face  for  the  information  craved,  were  as 
living  interrogation  points,  while  he  exclaimed,  tremu 
lously,  "I  know  it's  good  news  you  bring  me,  mother, 
and  I  can't  hear  it  a  bit  too  quick!'' 

"Yes,  good  news  indeed ;  very  good  news ;  so  good, 
in  fact,  that  I'm  almost  afraid  to  tell  it  to  you  in  your 
weak  state.  Will  you  promise  not  to  get  excited, 
dear  ?"  And  in  the  eager  face — eager  yet  hesitating — 
bent  down  to  kiss  him,  the  impatient  young  man  saw 
mirrored  an  earnest  of  the  great,  glad  tidings  she 
would  fain  divulge. 

"No  good  news  about  her  can  harmfully  excite  me, 
mother;  you  know  that.  Where  is  she?"  he  urged, 
feverishly. 

"In  Paris,  Robert,  and — a  widow!"  was  the  start 
ling  news  the  overjoyed  woman  could  no  longer  re 
frain  from  telling. 

"What,  mother?  Alice  both  alive,  and  free!"  cried 
Robert  in  amazement;  his  face  turning  to  an  ashy 
whiteness  as  he  spoke.  And  although  trembling  vio 
lently  from  the  shock  of  suddenly  aroused  hope,  he 
yet  declared  uncertainly,  "I  can't  believe  it  mother! 
Such  news  is  far  too  good  to  be  true !" 

"There,  there;  calm  yourself  my  dear  boy!"  cau 
tioned  the  other;  alarmed  for  the  effect  of  the  agita 
tion  her  impulsive  words  had  caused.  And  as  she 
laid  her  hand  quietingly  upon  the  forehead  of  her 


REFUGEES— A  VICTIM  475 

deeply  moved  son,  she  continued,  "You  must  not 
throw  yourself  back  now,  you  know,  but  get  well  as 
quickly  as  possible.  For  happily,  the  good  news  is 
true,  and  I  want  my  dear  girl  brought  to  me  without 
any  avoidable  delay." 

"You  won't  have  to  wait  long  for  her  if  it  rests  with 
me,  mother,  and  I  shall  prepare  her  by  an  immediate 
letter.  Please  bring  the  materials;  I  feel  strong 
enough  to  write";  he  affirmed,  confidently,  and  at 
tempting  to  raise  himself  up  as  he  spoke. 

"Oh,  no,  son,  I  couldn't  allow  that,  even  if  we  knew 
where  to  reach  her!"  spoke  up  the  mother,  quickly; 
pressing  her  over-ambitious  convalescent  back  upon 
his  pillows.  "Which  we  do  not,  as  yet,"  she  went  on. 
"But  Mrs.  Nichols  is  expecting  her  European  address 
daily,  so  try  to  wait  patiently,  dear ;  then  when  it  does 
arrive  you  may  be  strong  enough  to  use  it  at  once." 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  restrain  myself, 
mother/'  sighed  Robert,  dejectedly;  "but  it  will  be 
terribly  hard  work;  for  although  now  about  as  poor 
as  Job,  you  know  I  am  not  naturally  so  patient." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MINISTERING  ANGELS A  BELATED  BETROTHAL. 

"  'As  usual  he  was  in  with  the  first  load.'  " 
"  'Mrs.  Harding-  came  out  at  the  first  news  of 

the    disaster,    to    look    for   you    and    help    in    the 

work   of  nursing-.'  " 

"  'Aren't  you  very  glad  to  see  me,  Margaret'?" 

After  night's  gloom,  the  bright  and  sunny  morrow. 
So  Joy  treads  ever  on  the  heels  of  Sorrow. 

A  great  writer — but  feeble  critic  of  his  Creator — 
once  belittled  his  God-given  intellect  enough  to 
thoughtlessly  ask,  why  health  had  not  been  made 
catching  instead  of  disease.  So,  deep  down  in  the 
querulous  human  heart,  all  too  often,  lies  imbedded  the 
erroneous  belief  that  the  only  experiences  of  life 
which  do  not  come  singly,  are  its  troubles.  But  were 
we  to  take  correct  note,  should  we  not  find  that  the 
Heaven-sent  joys  of  life  are  legion,  constant,  and  abid 
ing?  While  its  troubles, — not  disasters,  so  called — 
though  always  man-made,  are  few  by  contrast,  occas 
ional,  and  fleeting?  Of  its  surprises  likewise;  are  not 
the  unpleasant  far  outnumbered  by  the  pleasant,  daily  ? 
And  of  these  latter,  a  copious  and  refreshing  shower, 
was  now  about  to  descend  upon  the  heads  of  several 
of  the  familiar  personages  of  our  story. 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  477- 

Said  Robert  Manning  gaily  to  his  parent  on  the  fol 
lowing  day,  as  she  took  leave  of  him  for  her  accus 
tomed  ministrations  in  the  other  sick  room,  "If  you 
bring  me  as  good  news  today  as  you  did  yesterday, 
mother,  I  shall  be  sitting  up  a  little  by  tomorrow." 

"Well,  I  certainly  trust  I  may  have  some  for  you 
then,  dear";  returned  the  happy  mother,  kissing  him 
tenderly.  "And  even  better  than  I  have  yet  brought 
you.  I  ought  to,  hadn't  I  ?  For  this  will  be  the  third 
edition,  and  there's  luck  in  odd  numbers,  you  know" ; 
she  laughingly  reminded.  Then  added,  "Dr.  Woods, 
whom  I  met  and  had  quite  a  talk  with  yesterday, 
hasn't  yet  quite  given  Mrs.  Nichols  up  to  die,  he  says. 
He's  to  have  a  consultating  friend  with  him  today, 
and  I  really  have  strong  hopes,  from  the  way  he  talked, 
of  bringing  you  a  more  encouraging  report  of  her 
case,  at  least." 

"I  hope  you  may,  I'm  sure,  poor  woman,"  returned 
the  young  man  feelingly;  and  there  seemed  a  very 
sincere  ring  to  his  friendly  words.  "Don't  forget  to 
give  her  my  regards  and  good  wishes.  And  don't 
stay  too  long,  please !"  he  called,  as  his  mother  stepped 
briskly  from  the  tent.  Then  when  a  cheery  "I  won't, 
dear,"  floated  back  to  him,  Robert  Manning's  face 
sobered,  as  an  involuntary  tremor  of  upbraiding  recol 
lection  swept  his  heart.  And  closing  his  eyes  he  mur 
mured  tensely,  "How  can  I  ever  thank  God  enough 
that  she  has  been  brought  out  of  it  all  so  wonder 
fully!" 


478  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

And  "wonderfully,1  was  in  no  degree  too  strong  a 
word  to  describe  the  almost  miraculous  restoration  of 
Margaret  Manning.  The  dreadful  affliction  with 
which  she  had  so  recently  been  visited,  had  left  no 
visible  trace  upon  the  woman,  and  well  might  the  one 
time  wayward  son,  the  offending  cause,  be  thankful. 
Thankful,  too,  that  the  years  of  disappointment,  mental 
torture  and  heart  strain  to  which  she  had  first  been 
subjected,  had  left  so  light  a  mark;  for  few  there  are 
who  could  have  weathered  such  storms  as  had  crossed 
her  path,  without  showing  many  detracting  physical 
scars.  But  accepting  them — as  she  had  done — as  a 
needed,  while  yet  uncomprehended  discipline,  meeting 
them  in  a  spirit  of  loving  forbearance,  bearing  them 
with  a  sweet  submission  and  a  patient  courage  which 
would  not  let  the  hope  of  bright  days  yet  to  come,  quite 
die  within  her,  since  the  dense,  black  clouds  had  rolled 
away,  she  might  be  said  to  have  emerged  from  the  fiery 
furnace  with  little  more  than  the  smell  of  smoke  upon 
her  garments.  And  now,  arrived  at  the  meridian  of 
life,  when  the  more  subdued  splendors  of  its  early 
Autumn  were  beginning  to  mellow  the  flaming  bright 
ness  of  its  spent  Summer-time,  Margaret  Manning 
was  quite  as  beautiful  to  look  at  as  the  flattering 
Springtime  of  her  life  had  promised.  Moreover,  sor 
row  and  suffering  had  accomplished  their  intended 
ministries,  in  still  further  deepening  the  warm  and 
tender  light  that  had  always  loved  to  hide  in  the  depths 
of  her  dark  blue  eyes,  while  the  enforced  community 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  479 

life  of  the  period,  with  its  inevitable  broadening  of 
vision  and  sympathies,  had  seemed  to  somewhat  tone 
down  the  ingrained  queenliness  of  manner,  which  to 
some,  had  savoured  of  haughtiness;  thus  conspiring 
to  make  her  beside  beautiful,  a  more  than  ever  charm 
ing  woman  as  well. 

And  that  she  was  so  considered,  was  evident  from 
the  admiring  remarks  of  Dr.  Woods  to  his  consulting 
brother,  as  he  slowed  down  his  car  that  day  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  block  in  which  stood  'the  little  shop' 
kept  by  the  'owld  woman,' — of  which  Winnie  McCaf 
frey  had  told — and  saw  the  attractive  stranger,  whom 
he  had  first  met  but  the  day  before,  rapidly  approach 
ing  from  its  lower  end. 

"Why  here  comes  the  beautiful  widow  of  whom  I've 
been  telling  you,  Hal !"  he  exclaimed ;  the  sober,  pre 
occupied  face  relaxing  into  a  cheery  smile  as  he  spoke. 
"Such  a  charming  creature  ought  never  to  have  kept 
heart  whole  and  fancy  free  for  nearly  thirteen  years, 
as  my  patient  tells  me  she's  done ; — they're  long-lost 
friends,  it  seems.  She  should  have  made  some  poor 
wretch  miserably  happy,  long  ago.  Here's  your  chance, 
Pard ;  I'll  introduce  you,  if  you'll  promise  to  convince 
her  that  thirteen's  an  unlucky  number.  Why  what 
are  you  turning  so  pale  for?"  he  continued  banter- 
ingly.  "Who'd  ever  have  believed  that  such  a  con 
firmed  bach  as  you  was  still  susceptible !" 

"You'll  be  spared  the  trouble  of  introducing  us, 
Doc;"  returned  his  companion,  blithely;  "for  we're 


480  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

still  longer  'lost  friends/  I  guess.  I  haven't  seen  the 
lady  for  almost  thirty  years,  but  I'd  have  known  her 
anywhere."  And  springing  from  the  still  grating  ma 
chine,  the  man  swung  hurriedly  around  behind  it  to 
the  sidewalk,  and  with  one  stride,  placed  himself 
directly  in  the  path  of  the  arriving  woman;  his  face 
fairly  agleam  with  delight.  For  had  he  not  already 
learned  of  her  long  period  of  widowhood  ?  So  not  the 
hope  alone,  but  the  determination  to  possess  his  love 
at  last,  had  sprung  to  instant  life  in  the  constant  heart 
of  this  splendid,  noble  looking  man. 

"Margaret !"  he  gasped  in  astonishment,  as  he  raised 
his  hat; — dispensing  with  the  unnecessary  "Mrs."  in 
their  case — "Do  I  really  see  you  once  more,  or  is  it 
that  my  delighted  eyes  are  merely  playing  me  a  scurvy 
trick?" 

But  although  the  wealth  of  silken  hair — whose  fiery 
redness  in  youth  had  been  such  a  continual  source  of 
chagrin  to  its  owner — was  now  like  a  crown  of  spun 
silver  upon  that  owner's  head,  there  was  no  need  of 
introduction;  for  instantly  extending  her  hand,  the 
long-lost  sweetheart  returned  his  salutation  with  an 
equal  show  of  delighted  astonishment;  though  "Har 
ry!"  was  all  that  she  could  say. 

"Well !  Well !  Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Manning,"  put 
in  Dr.  Woods  who,  hat  in  hand,  now  joined  the  sur 
prised  couple.  "This  seems  a  very  delightful  reunion, 
surely;  I  must  say  I  feel  intensely  pleased  with  my 
self  for  having  brought  it  about!"  He  laughed  ap- 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  481 

propriately,  rubbing  his  palms  together  at  the  same 
time  in  a  self-gratulatory  manner. 

"It  is  a  most  delightful  re-union,  Doctor,"  replied 
the  smiling  woman ;  "for  Doctor  Gardiner  and  I  were 
playmates  in  childhood;  and  you  know  though  lost  to 
sight,  such  companionships  are  often  very  dear  to 
memory.  But  however  do  you  happen  to  be  away  out 
here?"  she  asked  in  astonishment;  now  turning  again 
to  her  friend.  "Though  that's  certainly  an  absurd 
question  to  ask,  on  second  thought,"  she  added  again 
addressing  her  remark  to  Dr.  Woods.  "Rather  ought 
I  to  have  expected  to  learn  of  Dr.  Gardiner's  being 
here  at  such  a  time  as  this,  for  in  calamity's  hour,  any 
where,  his  name  has  always  appeared  in  print  as 
among  the  ministering  angels ;  as  you  know  even  bet 
ter  than  me,  probably." 

"That's  the  truth,  if  ever  it  was  spoken,  Mrs.  Man 
ning,"  assented  the  physician,  heartily ;  "and  as  usual, 
he  was  in  with  the  first  load." 

"Better  get  in  to  your  patient,  Doc.,"  put  in  Harold 
Gardiner  quickly,  to  stop  further  embarrassing  con 
versation  along  the  same  lines.  Adding,  as  they  moved 
together  towards  the  shop  door,  "What  was  it  Wil 
liam  the  Great  said  about  our  indiscretions  serving 
us  better  than  our  deep  laid  plots?  Now  it  was  but 
the  merest  accident  my  being  with  that  first  rush;  for 
Florida  was  my  original  plan  for  a  little  holiday  this 
year,  and  if  I  hadn't  happened  to  change  it  at  the  last 
moment, — and  for  no  specially  good  reason,  either — 


482  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

why  I  shouldn't  have  had  the  honor  and  notoriety. 
So  you  see  there's  no  credit  due  me  for  it,  at  all." 

Whereat  his  old  college  chum  exclaimed,  with  good 
natured  irony,  "Oh,  Modesty!  thy  name  was  from  the 
beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be,  Harold  Lincoln 
Gardiner;  M.D.S.D.F.R.C.P.&S.  et  cetera." 

Now  great  as  had  been  the  surprise  and  pleasure 
of  this  most  undreamed  of  meeting  with  her  one-time 
'playmate/  still  greater  of  both  were  in  store  for  Mar 
garet  Manning,  on  that  eventful  day  of  pleasant  sur 
prises.  She  was  already  in  the  sick-room  greeting 
her  injured  friend,  when  the  physicians, — tarrying  to 
remove  their  hats  and  converse  a  moment  in  the  hall 
outside — entered;  and  with  a  cheery  "You  remember 
Dr.  Gardiner,  do  you  not,  Mrs.  Nichols?"  had  moved 
off  a  little,  that  the  physician  friend  might  take  her 
place;  saying  as  she  went,  "I  know  you'll  be  pleased 
to  meet  our  old  Colorado  friend  again,  Doctor." 

Whereupon,  the  friend  addressed,  with  mingled 
surprise,  relief  and  satisfaction  speaking  from  every 
feature,  advanced  quickly  to  the  side  of  the  sufferer; 
and  while  taking  her  hand,  answered  with  excessive 
cordiality,  "Very  much  pleased,  Mrs.  Manning,  for 
her  own  sake,  and  still  more  so  for  the  sake  of  an 
other."  And  then,  to  his  confrere,  "May  I  tell  your 
patient  some  good  news,  Doctor?" 

"The  quicker  the  better;  returned  the  mystified  Dr. 
Woods,  with  a  nod  of  unqualified  approval,  as  he 
seated  himself  expectantly  upon  the  opposite  side  of 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  483 

the  sick  bed.  "For  'good  news  is  like  water  to  a 
thirsty  soul/  you  know." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Nichols,"  said  the  now  smiling  Dr. 
Gardiner,  "this  is  certainly  a  most  gratifying  moment 
to  me.  Why  I  have  been  trying  to  locate  you  these 
two  weeks  past,  for  your  Niece,  Mrs.  Harding,  of  New 
York;  who  is  in  the  city,  and  greatly  distressed  be 
cause  unable  to  learn  anything  as  to  your  fate  or 
whereabouts." 

"What!  Alice  her  el"  fell  simultaneously  from  the 
lips  of  both  women ;  Mrs.  Manning  springing  excitedly 
to  her  feet,  while  the  sick  woman,  with  tears  of  joy 
stealing  from  beneath  the  trembling  eyelids  emotion 
had  forced  her  to  lower,  murmured  gratefully;  'Be 
hind  a  frowning  providence,  He  hides  a  smiling  face/ 
At  which  the  learn-ed  M.  D/s  looked  inquiringly  at 
each  other. 

"Yes,"  resumed  the  speaker,  "Mrs.  Harding  came 
out  at  the  first  news  of  the  disaster,  to  look  for  you, 
and  help  in  the  work  of  nursing; — she  having  taken 
somewhat  of  a  course  in  the  profession — and  having 
been  unexpectedly  delayed  a  week  in  sailing  for 
Europe.  She  is  serving  at  one  of  the  hospitals,  where 
we  met ;  and  telling  me  of  the  missing  aunt  for  whom 
she  was  searching,  begged  me  to  keep  up  an  inquiring 
for  her  as  I  went  about.  Talking  the  matter  over 
brought  to  light  the  fact  that  you  and  I  were  oldtime 
acquaintances,  which,  of  course,  increased  my  interest 
at  once";  he  put  in  courteously.  "But  I  had  no  idea 


484  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

when  my  friend  here  asked  me  to  consult  with  him 
over  your  case,  that  I  should  find  in  his  patient  the 
very  lady  for  whom  I  have  been  so  persistently  seek 
ing.  Mrs.  Harding  will  be  a  very  happy  woman  when 
I  carry  her  the  good  news. 

"And  /  am  much  more  so,  Doctor,"  returned  the 
patient,  feelingly.  "Happy  to  know  that  she  is  here 
and  I  may  soon  see  her,  as  well  as  to  know  of  her 
loving  anxiety  about  me;  although  that  is  nothing 
surprising  in  Alice,  is  it?"  she  asked  of  her  friend. 

"Indeed  it  is  not;  such  a  picture  of  her  is  but  true 
to  life" ;  replied  the  other,  warmly.  "But  where  may 
we  find  her,  Doctor?"  she  now  asked,  with  much  ner 
vous  eagerness.  "Her  presence  here  is  of  even  greater 
importance  to  me  than  to  Mrs.  Nichols.  I  must  see 
her  at  once!  Kindly  tell  me  how  to  go  to  her!" 

"Mrs.  Harding  is  on  duty  this  afternoon,"  was  the 
discouraging  reply,  "and  I  hardly  believe  you  would 
wish  to  interrupt  her  in  her  work.  She  will  be  free 
this  evening,  however,  and  could  I  not  bring  her  to 
you?"  And  at  this  gallant  offer, — a  very  significant 
one  to  him — Dr.  Woods  gave  vent  to  a  mental  'O,  ho !' 
To  repeat  it,  with  even  greater  force  and  pleasure,  at 
the  ready  acceptance,  for  which  he  hopefully  listened. 

"If  you  only  would,  Doctor,  I  should  be  so  grate 
ful",  said  Margaret;  "for  my  son,  Robert,  is  ill  and 
unable  to  go  for  her,  and  we  must  see  her  at  once"; 
— instantly  popping  in  the  hospitable  after-thought — 
"and  by  that  means,  you  and  Robert  will  meet  the  more 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  485 

quickly,  too;  as  I  am  of  course  very  anxious  that  you 
should  do.  What  time,  about,  may  we  expect  you?" 

"O,  not  until  he  has  brought  her  to  me,  please,  Mrs. 
Manning,"  interposed  the  sick  one,  persuasively.  "You 
will  let  me  have  her  first  for  a  little,  I  am  sure !" 

"Certainly,  my  dear  friend;  that  will  of  course  be 
her  wish,  too ;  but  you  know  how  impatiently  we  shall 
be  awaiting  her,  so  you  will  be  very  considerate,  I 
know.  We  are  Refugees,"  she  now  turned  to  inform 

her  gallant  friend.  "You'll  find  us  in Square, 

north  side.  I  don't  know  how  to  designate  the  exact 
location  to  you," — she  hesitated — "except  that  we  are 
in  between  the  Waldorf-Astoria  and  Poverty-Flat 
tents."  Explaining,  with  a  smile,  "we  have  very 
facetious  neighbors,  you  see;  so  much  more  so  than 
ourselves,  in  fact,  that  their  ingenious  door-plates — 
which  by  the  way,  spread  over  the  whole  side  of  their 
tents — must  be  your  only  guide,  I'm  afraid.  And 
now  if  there  is  nothing  that  I  can  do  for  Mrs. 
Nichols,"  she  finished,  bending  over  the  other  to  in 
quire,  "I  must  get  back  to  Robert." 

"Allow  us  the  pleasure,  Mrs.  Manning;  "Dr.  Woods 
begged  instantly.  "We  shall  be  going  soon.  If  you 
will  be  so  good  as  to  leave  the  room  now,  Dr.  Gardi 
ner  and  I  will  get  down  to  our  professional  duties  at 
once,  and  will  detain  you  but  a  short  time."  Break 
ing  in  upon  the  "Thanks,  but" — which  was  beginning 
a  polite  refusal — with  "You'll  reach  home  fully  as 
soon  as  by  walking,  and  have  an  opportunity  for  a 
chat  with  your  'childhood's  playmate'  beside." 


486  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

So  while  she  waited,  Mrs.  Manning  repaired  to  the 
little  shop  in  front,  to  talk  with  Mary  Lanigan  about 
the  more  encouraging  symptoms  noticeable  in  her 
loved  mistress  that  day,  and  which  had  naturally  con 
duced  to  the  unusually  comfortable  night  the  girl  de 
clared  her  to  have  passed. 

"Well?"  she  queried,  with  friendly  concern,  as  the 
doctors  joined  her  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later. 

"Your  friend's  condition  is  exceedingly  favorable 
now,  Mrs.  Manning,"  answered  the  physician  in 
charge.  "The  change  for  the  better  for  which  I  have 
been  hoping,  has  set  in  within  the  last  twenty-four 
hours,  and  I  feel  that  I  may  say  now  with  great  confi 
dence,  that  she  will  recover." 

"Thank  the  Lord!"  burst  out  the  loving  servant. 
And  while  a  new  prescription  was  being  written  and 
further  instructions  given  the  girl  as  to  the  future 
care  of  her  recovering  patient,  Mrs.  Manning  stepped 
back  into  the  sick  room,  to  leave  with  her  now  hopeful 
friend  a  word  of  congratulation  and  good  cheer. 

As  the  three  left  the  little  shop  and  again  came  out 
upon  the  sidewalk,  Dr.  Woods — with  a  nice  show  of 
politeness — handed  his  fair  guest  to  a  seat  in  his  wait 
ing  car;  and  then,  after  expressing  the  hope  of  meet 
ing  her  soon  again,  smilingly  bowed  himself  off, 
pleading  another  call  to  make  close  by,  to  which  he 
would  prefer  walking.  So  with  a  grateful,  "All  right, 
Doc. ;  see  you  later" ;  Harold  Gardiner  sprang  nimbly 
to  a  seat  beside  his  long-lost  love. 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  487 

"Oh,  don't  turn!"  spoke  up  the  woman  quickly;  as 
her  companion  began  making  a  curve.  "You're  headed 
for Square,  now;  it's  in  that  direction" — indi 
cating  the  same  with  a  nod  of  her  head. 

"I  know,  Margaret ;  but  we're  going  for  a  little  spin 
first,"  returned  the  man,  coolly. 

"Not  this  afternoon,  I  regret,  Harry!  I  must  get 
back  to  Robert !" 

"Robert  is  in  very  good  hands,  I  understand,  dur 
ing  your  absence" ;  affirmed  the  other,  with  the  con 
fidence  of  one  well  informed  upon  his  subject.  And 
then,  with  a  soft  wistfulness,  "Aren't  you  very  glad 
to  see  me,  Margaret?" 

"Delighted,  of  course,  Harry;  but — " 

"Then  prove  it  to  me,  by  allowing  me  this  first 
blessed  half  hour  with  you  alone";  interrupted  the 
man. 

"But  I  must  prepare  Robert  for  this  evening !  It's — " 

"There's  several  hours  between  now  and  evening, 
Margaret" ;  he  again  broke  in ;  while  all  the  while 
increasing  the  distance  between  mother  and  son. 

"But  he  must  be  prepared  for  it  gradually,  Harry," 
the  former  now  protested ; — a  trifle  impatiently,  too,  it 
might  almost  be  said.  "He's  very  weak ;  and  a  sudden 
shock  would  not  do!  you  don't  understand  the  situa 
tion,  either !  Alice  and  he  were  most  cruelly  separated 
six  years  ago,  by — " 

"And  you  and  I  were  separated  by  a  cruel  fate, 
thirty  years  ago,  sweetheart,  and  I  don't  mean  that 


488  BY  EARTHQUAKE  AND  FIRE 

we  ever  shall  be  again,"  the  man  interrupted,  for  the 
third  time,  and  he  spoke  with  great  determination. 
"Though  just  say  that  you'll" — he  ad  led,  and  was 
now  in  turn  interrupted  with  the  fond  mother's  plead 
ing  :  "But  think  of  Robert,  Harry !  and  do  please  turn 
round !" 

"It's  just  because  I  am  thinking  of  Robert,  that  I'm 
not  taking  time  to  tell  you  over  again  of  the  depth  and 
fervor  of  my  love,  Margaret,  which  the  years  have 
certainly  proven" ;  returned  the  lover,  tenderly.  "And 
I'll  promise  to  turn  round,  the  very  minute  you  whis 
per  that  precious  little  word  in  my  ear,  for  which  I 
pleaded  thirty  long  years  ago." 

"Do  take  me  home,  Harry,"  again  coaxed  the 
woman,  after  a  moment's  dwelling  upon  this  reminder 
of  her  lover's  constancy.  And  then,  poutingly,  "You 
don't  seem  to  have  any  heart,  now-a-days." 

"I've  never  pretended  to  have  one,  love," — came 
the  laughing  response,  with  most  exasperating  gaiety 
— "since  I  gave  it  to  you,  in  the  long  ago.  I  haven't 
needed  any.  A  gizzard  has  answered  my  purpose  very 
well  indeed." 

"But  this  is  so  sudden!"  next  complained  the  eternal 
feminine.  "And  you've  grown  so  arbitrary,  too,  Har 
ry  ;  why  you  used  to  be  nice  and  manageable." 

But  the  soft  impeachment  in  no  wise  disturbed  the 
serenity  of  the  accused  lover ;  who  saw  in  it  but  a  sign 
of  approaching  surrender.  So  he  answered  unmoved, 
"And  found  it  didn't  pay,  dearest;  years  make  us 
wise." 


MINISTERING  ANGELS  489 

"Oh,  Harry,  I  beg  of  you,  turn  round !  we're  getting 
so  far  away,  and  Robert  will  be  so  nervous  and  im 
patient  !" 

"Whenever  I  hear  that  sweet  little  word,  Margaret," 
rejoined  the  wooer;  as  determinedly  as  ever,  and  per 
ceptibly  increasing  his  speed  as  he  spoke. 

"Oh,  Harry!"    This  in  despair. 

"You  wouldn't  humiliate  me  in  Dr.  Wood's  eyes, 
would  you,  sweetheart  ?"  now  offered  the  man,  craftily. 

"Dr.  Woods!    Why  he  doesn't—" 

"Oh,  yes  he  does,  dearest;  knows  just  what  pur 
pose  I  borrowed  his  car  for,  and  has  already  congratu 
lated  me  with  the  most  flattering  heartiness,  too." 

"You  borrowed  his  car!  Then  this  was  all  pre 
meditated  ?  You  audacious  man !" 

"  'He  who  would  attain  an  end,  must  take  the 
means  there-to'  Margaret;  and — 'wisdom  with  years,' 
you  know." 

"Harry,  do  turn  round" ;  she  once  more  coaxed. 

"I'll  not  only  turn  round,  sweetheart,  but  speed  for 
Square,  the  very  instant  you  command  me." 

"Oh,  dear!"  The  woman  fidgeted  uneasily  for  a 
moment;  and  then,  settling  back  with  a  resigned  air, 
"Well,  I  simply  must  get  there,  Harry ;  so — speed/' 


envo 

SWEET  ALICE. 

"When  sweet  Alice  was  soon  after  brought  to 
him  there  was  but  little  to  be  said,  evem  had 
not  emotion  prevented." 

'A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day ; 
Your  sad,  tires  in  a  mile-a/ 


So,  although  there  was  much  less  time  than  the  ap 
prehensive  mother  could  have  wished,  in  which  to  pre 
pare  her  feeble  convalescent  for  the  avalanche  of  over 
powering  joy  about  to  sweep  down  upon  him,  it  proved 
amply  long  for  safety;  and  the  love  affair  of  the 
younger  couple — like  that  of  their  elders — having 
matured,  and  its  sweet  story  been  told,  in  the  long 
before,  when  sweet  Alice,  radiantly  happy  with  antici 
pation  of  the  longed-for  love  in  which  her  heart  might 
at  last,  find  its  well  earned  rest,  was  soon  after  brought 
to  him,  there  was  but  little  to  be  sa-'  1,  even  had  emo 
tion  not  prevented.  It  was  more  a  looking  of  unutter 
able  things  by  adoring  eyes,  into  eyes  which  joyed  to 
toss  them  back  again  with  a  caressing  smile.  But  the 
following  day,  the  waiting  friends  in  far-away  Paris, 
were  startled  by  the  receipt  of  a  disappointing  cable, 
over  the  familiar  initials,  A.  G.  H.,  which  read: — 
'Sudden  change  of  plans — Explanatory  letter  en  route 
— Future  home,  Denver ;  with  Dear  Mamma  Manning 
and— Rob.' 

THE  END. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-507H-9,'70(N9877s8) 458— A-31/5,6 


N9  755244 


PS3545 

Whaley,  M.L.T.  H125 

By  earthquake  and  fire.   B9 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


